Cheryl's Favorites
by MadamThang
Summary: This is a compilation of my favorite writing. Rated M because that reflects life. ExB, mostly AU with Vamp and AH storylines.
1. Chapter 1: Fishy Kisses

Title: **Fishy Kisses**  
>Category: Books » Twilight<br>Author: MadamThang  
>Language: English, Rating: Rated: T<br>Genre: Romance/Humor  
>Published: 07-25-10, Updated: 07-25-10<br>Words: 4,151

_**Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.**_

_**A/N: This was originally going to be for a Wit Fit but I didn't get off my duff in time to submit it. To that end, it became a birthday gift for my favorite water girl, Swimom7.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Fishy Kisses<strong>_

There were things that I knew and then there were things that I wondered about.

For example, I knew Edward Cullen was beautiful, but I wondered about what he looked like without a shirt on. I'd seen enticing bits of his stomach when he bent over or did a layup in gym or reached under his shirt to scratch his tummy, but I wondered what the whole package looked like. Shoulders to hips, was his whole body as pretty as that little ribbon of exposed skin?

Another example? Okay - I knew Edward Cullen was experienced – like really, _really _experienced. I knew because that was what everyone said and also what they assumed. I tried to keep my mind away from all of the things that having all that experience could mean. That was a realm that I'd really never explored except in my dreams when it was completely out of my control.

The things that I wondered about tended to be more on the cerebral level, like what books did he read? What television shows did he watch? What was his favorite movie? What was his favorite subject in school?

I wondered if he'd laugh at the things I wondered about.

I sat behind him in my Junior Humanities class (a.k.a. Advanced Placement English Composition and Literature). Brainy kids were in our class and that was another thing I liked about him: he was a brain like me. That wasn't all though - he was also a jock - like, an all three seasons jock. He played soccer in the fall, basketball in the winter and he was on the track team in the spring. His body didn't look like anyone else's. His face was untouchable.

Edward Cullen had a jaw that screamed MAN and his hair was sort of longish and never seemed to be combed properly. He definitely shaved every day and had deep-set eyes that were literally hidden sometimes by extremely thick and dark eyelashes. When his eyes were closed, the lashes got tangled all together at the outer corners. Why did I know this? Because once I'd stared at him in Freshman Algebra class as he slept. At first I looked because I was generally mystified by people who could sleep in class, and then I _kept_ on looking because I started to notice little things like the compelling nature of eyelashes.

Today I was thinking these things because it was our first day of second semester and I had just entered my seventh hour study hall and _he_ was there. _He_ was sitting with my friend Jessica Stanley. We'd talked and planned to sit together but now I wasn't sure if I'd ever have the guts to plop down next to her as long as _he_ remained there.

She waved me over then and what was I supposed to do? I went. I sat. I talked. At first it was all accomplished in a detached haze. My body did what it was supposed to do even though my brain was scoffing that there was no way I was capable of sitting next to such a boy. Yet here I was. And here I remained! Each day I freaked out, came to study hall and sat and talked with Jessica and Edward.

Thus began our unexpected and unlikely friendship. We laughed every day in study hall. We talked and searched out everything we had in common. He was kind of goofy but brilliant, geeky but beautiful, and popular but kind. He was, in a word, awesome. I adored him. Jessica and I would swoon privately over his muscular arms, the audacity of his smile, his cute butt and his ability to hang out with every group at school. In spite of all that, he would come slumming to study hall with the mere mortals, me and Jessica Stanley, each and every day, and would see fit to treat us like we were his preferred crowd.

Second semester slowly crept by, gradually changing from snowy to rainy to occasionally sunny and mild. Today it had transcended to hot.

I usually brought my iPod to school even though we weren't supposed to, and one particular day I was really getting into a new bunch of songs that I'd downloaded. I sat in study hall waiting for Jessica and Edward, listening to an unusual selection for me (Lady Gaga) and sort of jamming. I was standing up sorting through folders and papers and laying out everything in piles to make sense of what I had. I was completely oblivious to the world until I reconnected rather suddenly with someone who grabbed me from behind and spun me around. I was held tightly in strong arms against a body that swayed with me for a second before I looked up in shock at Edward.

"Hey!" I said, trying to extricate myself while taking out one of my ear buds.

"Hey yourself," he replied. "What are you listening to?"

"Dance music," I answered. "Wanna hear?"

"Sure," he laughed, sitting at the table.

I pulled out a chair and handed him the ear bud. We put our heads together and I restarted the song.

"I've never heard this," he said.

"Yeah - it's not one of the songs on the radio - it's a deep cut," I explained.

"Nice," he replied.

We were quietly listening and his hair was touching my ear. While I was contemplating whether it was weird or not to realize this, his hand came to rest on my thigh. I thanked God silently that I'd shaved my legs that morning. It was hot and shorts were what I picked. How was I to know that Edward Cullen's hand would end up on my skin today?

And his hand was just _huge_. I mean, I thought I had big thighs and lamented my weight all the time, but his hand covered the entire top and his fingers wrapped almost all the way around. It made me feel warm and not-so-fat at all.

Our heads were barely touching and I wanted to reach up to brush his hair away because it was tickling me plus I sort of wanted to touch it. He turned his head as if he read my mind and then his face was whisper-close to my cheek. A second later I felt his nose touch my skin. I was trying to tell myself it wasn't intentional but I could've sworn I heard him inhale deeply. I turned to look at him in surprise. He didn't move and just sat there, entirely too close to me, audibly inhaling the air around us.

"What kind of shampoo do you use?" he asked.

"Um, I think it's called Pureology or something like that," I answered. "My mom buys it at the mall."

"It smells awesome," he said. "Is it just for girls?"

"Um, yeah I think so. Guys wouldn't want to smell all flowery would they?" I asked, wondering why he was acting so uncharacteristically curious about me.

Before he could answer the flowery question Jessica came bounding up.

"Hey guys! My parents just opened the pool for the year. Do you want to skip study hall and come over to break it in with me?" she asked excitedly.

"I don't have a suit," I said, immediately disappointed and relieved at the same time. I couldn't imagine baring my body in front of Edward. The whole hand-on-my-thigh thing was still killing me.

"I have one you could borrow," she volunteered. "Or else my sister might have one."

I knew Jessica's boobs were way bigger than mine so any suit of hers would hang on me like my mother's. Her sister though, was two years younger, about my height, and flat as a pan bottom.

"Excellent," I said sarcastically.

"Uh – what about me?" asked Edward.

"Do you have your gym shorts here? Either that or I could get some shorts from my dad's drawer for you," volunteered Jessica.

"Let me check my locker," he said.

We all stood up and walked together to Edward's locker where, sure enough, he had a pair of basketball shorts that would fill the bill.

"And we're off," he said.

We drove over to Jessica's and went in through the side gate at her house and immediately spotted the in-ground pool that looked all blue and perfect. We went into the house and Edward went to the bathroom to change while Jessica and I went up to her room. I ended up putting on her sister's very conservative tankini and naturally Jessica let it all hang out in something entirely too small.

There was no way Edward would ever see me if I stood beside Jessica. I knew in my heart that it would turn out this way eventually. I never got the guy and it was glaringly obvious that the situation wasn't going to change anytime soon. I figured Jessica's attributes would eclipse anything I had to offer, even if I was way better in the friendship department.

I wrapped a towel protectively around my body and walked down the stairs behind Jessica who was unflustered and uncovered in her barely-there bikini.

And then his eyes popped. He was in the water already, watching us make our way over to the pool. I knew he would react that way and resigned myself to our platonic friendship, shoving my disappointment down. Jessica had a body and wasn't afraid to use it. I walked quietly behind her, dropped my towel, and dove into the water straightaway to avoid the not-good-enough feeling.

The water was freezing cold but it felt invigorating. I felt happy and let myself enjoy it quietly for a few minutes, turning back and front somersaults and doing a quick handstand. I pointed my toes for good measure because back in Phoenix that was the standard.

I tried not to dwell on the fact that Edward and Jessica were probably getting it on while I was in my own water world.

I emerged from my handstand and Edward was leaning against the edge of the pool talking to Jessica.

"Figures," I mumbled inaudibly.

I ducked my head under the water again to squelch the warm feeling of imminent tears and swam with wide free strokes, opening my eyes to clear them and to see blurrily under the water. The chlorine stung for a second and I squeezed my eyes closed again briefly before reopening them. Just as I did that, Edward's legs loomed in front of me and I almost slammed into him. I immediately came up for air.

"That was close," I sputtered.

"What was?" he asked, smiling down at me in his Atlantian glory.

"I almost ran into you," I said.

"Hmm. Well we certainly wouldn't want that to happen would we?" he asked. He was looking at me with a crooked smile on his face and I couldn't help feeling like he might be flirting with me.

_Sure, keep kidding yourself Bella. Works really well for you_, I thought to myself.

"Wanna play tunnel?" asked Edward. He looked entirely too enthusiastic at the prospect of playing the juvenile water game with me, but I couldn't help feeling the exact same way he looked. The thought of swimming so close to him was thrilling.

"Um, okay," I said hesitantly. "Jess are you going to play?" I didn't really want her to because I was certain he was interested in her but I had to be polite. She shook her head and raised her sunglasses to answer.

"I'm going to try and get a little color," she said, lowering her sunglasses back down dismissively. I was relieved. I had him to myself to play pool games.

_Ooh – right where you want him Bella_, I thought snarkily.

"Then it's just us," said Edward. "I'll go under first. Stand over there." He pointed some distance away.

I stood obediently, opening my legs so he could swim through. He ducked under the water and started toward me and it seemed to take forever. I half thought he wouldn't make it but when he got to me he swam easily through and popped up the other side.

"Now you," he said after breaking the surface and shaking the water from his hair. He looked absolutely stunning soaking wet. His eyes looked even more beautiful and I concluded that _wet and dripping _was definitely his best look so far.

"Bella?" he asked.

"Yeah – here goes," I said, trying to recover myself.

I moved away and he stood ready with his feet apart. I ducked under and swam toward him and as I was going under, my arm brushed against his leg. It felt like a fuzzy tree trunk and I decided I'd need to take a look at him when I emerged. I'd been so busy shielding myself from his gaze at Jessica that I hadn't bothered to look him over properly.

When I emerged he was already turned around to watch me.

"Wow," he said. "Your hair is really long!"

"Yeah," I admitted. "You really can't tell when it's dry, but it's past my bra strap."

At the mention of my unmentionables I blushed and ducked under the water so the blush didn't spread everywhere like usual. When I came back up I looked at him as we talked and swam around each other in the water.

He had really nice shoulders and I was a bit amazed that he had body hair. I mean most guys our age had armpit hair but Edward had chest hair and a little line of it went right down to his belly button and beyond. He had nice arms and I wondered how strong he was. I reminded myself that he was a basketball player and that he ran. I suddenly wanted to see his legs as well. I ducked under the water and opened my eyes. From what I could tell, he had nice legs but things were blurry without goggles.

"Jess – do you have goggles?" I asked when I came up for air.

"Yeah – that trunk over there," she said, waving in the direction of a fake treasure chest at the side of the pool.

I pushed myself up and out and ran over to the treasure chest.

"Do you want some?" I asked Edward.

"Yes please," he answered smiling that crooked smile again. It made me feel bashful and I felt self-conscious getting out of the water while he was watching me.

I went over to the chest and rifled around until I saw some goggles. I grabbed a pair for him and one for me and tossed his into the water. I stood up and put on mine, adjusting them before I jumped back in and submerged myself immediately to get a quick look at his legs. They were quite nice and covered with the same hair that appeared on his chest. He was definitely yummy from head to toe.

He joined me under the water and smiled at me before making a grab for me. I tried to kick away and escape but those long fingers wrapped around my ankles and had me firmly imprisoned. I moved my arms so that my head came out of the water and took a breath.

"Let go Edward!" I said desperately. I needed to get my feet on the ground or I was going to go under again.

"Nope – you're trapped," he said. "You're my prisoner."

I looked over at Jessica and she was just ducking into the house, talking on the phone to someone.

"Where's she going?" I asked, struggling to stay above water.

"Mike Newton called and she said she wanted to talk to him about something," he explained. It didn't escape my notice that he was pulling me closer to him. "Piggy back ride?" he asked unexpectedly.

"Uh…" I stammered.

He pulled me closer and pulled on one leg so that I floated behind him. I put my arms around him so I didn't sink.

"Do you want me to swim or what?" he asked.

"That would be fun," I said.

When his feet came off the ground, I wrapped my legs around him, feeling the smooth skin of his sides against my inner thighs. I tried to shift my legs down but then I was brushing against his hairy legs and it tickled. Plus I felt like I was entering the danger zone and I felt like I needed to get some distance between us.

When he came back up I said, "Let's just walk around."

He put his feet down on the ground and I felt safer on many levels. He made his way around the pool until we were at one of the deep end corners. He turned so my back was against the corner of the pool and he smooshed me so his back was pressed against my front. I still had the goggles on and my hair was stuck to my arms and shoulders. I wanted to dip under and take off the goggles and smooth my hair back but I couldn't really move since Edward had me pinned.

My breasts were flattened against his back and I could feel his hipbones under my calves. His shoulders felt hard and slick under my hands and I felt my breathing pick up. He reached up and lifted my hands from his shoulders right before he turned around to face me. I let my legs drift down so I wasn't indecent and his arms were suddenly around me. Less than a second later he pulled me up against him and laughed.

"You still have the goggles on," he said. His were pushed up into his hair and he looked stunning. Such a pretty boy.

I reached up to move them and he let me out of his arms. I dipped my head into the water to smooth my hair back and when I stood up again he was watching me intently.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"You are really pretty Bella," he said.

I reeled with skepticism and the blush came on quickly. I lowered my shoulders under the water reflexively. No one had ever given me such a compliment and for some reason it made me feel exposed…

"Thank you," I said shyly.

"You don't wear makeup do you?" he asked.

"Not very often," I said, assuming this was probably a bad thing.

"You don't need it," he said.

_Hunh. _I smiled and laughed. "My mother doesn't agree."

He started to press forward toward me and I tried to sink down into the water to get away. He wasn't having it and pulled me up tight with his arms that were circled around me again.

Butterflies clogged my throat and then he leaned in and said, "Let me kiss you…"

"What?" I asked in total disbelief.

"I want to kiss you," he said. "Can I?"

"Now?" I asked.

"Yes now," he laughed.

"What if Jessica comes out?" I asked.

"Here," he said and looked above the lip of the pool. I was invisible in the corner and he blocked out everything anyway. I could only see his chest and his face in front of me. He lowered himself into the water so our eyes were level. "Please?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said, scared as all hell.

"Please Bella?" he asked. "Or maybe you haven't been kissed before?"

"Of course I have," I said defensively. "I mean…um…Well, in the fifth grade," I said.

"Hmm," he said smiling, "So not so recently?"

"Um, no. Not _that_ recently," I admitted.

"So can I?" he persisted.

"I guess," I said in a small voice.

There was no escaping him now. I was trying to figure out where to put my hands. I had just had my hands on him for the piggy back ride but this was different! It was only skin everywhere and I felt nervous enough without adding the unfathomable fact that I was going to be touching his bare skin while he was kissing me. Thank God he took my hands and raised them to his shoulders as his arms came around my waist. I could feel his thighs touching mine and then he dipped his head.

"Ready?" he whispered. His eyes were on mine and he looked really sweet.

"No," I said honestly.

He laughed quietly and leaned in. "Here goes," he warned.

My lips buzzed right before he touched down. His mouth was warm and soft and sure all at the same time and after a second of pressure, he let up. I thought we were done but he came right back down and kissed me again and again until I thought I might sink below the waterline and drown from my sudden inability to connect with the real world.

Finally he _did _stop but his mouth hovered near mine, rubbing softly back and forth across my lips. His fingers touched my chin and my jaw and then in the softest way possible, he took my lower lip between his and sucked on it before pressing his mouth back to mine. His tongue teased my upper lip and mine parted almost automatically. I couldn't quite let my tongue do what his was doing, but I finally let my arms encircle his neck and my hands went into his hair. I realized a second too late that everything I had was pressed against everything Edward and when I tried to wiggle away he wouldn't let me.

"Don't?" he pleaded softly.

"Okay," I whispered back and I voluntarily stilled myself.

He came closer again, his tongue and lips making warm enticing movements in and around my mouth. I'd never felt anything like it and my body was trying to persuade me to get closer him. His hands were running over my back and my sides and getting tangled in my hair.

"Oh my God," I whispered as I took my mouth away from his. I was getting overwhelmed and a little nervous about what might come next. I mean after all, he was _experienced_. He pushed his face into my neck, touching his soft lips in odd but delightful places and then he snuffled a little bit. It tickled and I giggled involuntarily.

He took flight with my giggles, growling and snuffling my neck like a big dog. I was squirming like crazy then and laughing my head off because he was so unexpectedly silly. I had completely forgotten about Jessica Stanley until I heard her clear her throat right beside us.

"Well lovebirds," she said smiling broadly. "It's about frickin' time!"


	2. Chapter 2: Two Sides of the Same

Title: **Two Sides of the Same**  
>Category: Books » Twilight<br>Author: MadamThang  
>Language: English, Rating: Rated: M<br>Genre: Romance/General  
>Published: 12-09-09, Updated: 12-09-09<br>Words: 2,514

**A/N: This was my very first attempt at fanfiction. I was quite inspired and tried to be as prosaic as possible. I was also trying my hand at lemons and was so scared! Again - no beta so please forgive errors that I haven't seen (or tell me about them and I'll fix them!). Sidenote: This was the only fanfiction story my husband ever liked...  
><strong>

* * *

><p>They were two sides of the same coin, two halves of a whole, yin and yang.<p>

She purred, he growled.

She prowled, he stalked.

She seduced, he conquered.

Each, aware of the other, respected the space between, the border line, the boundary, if you will. They moved symbiotically around one another, occasionally exchanging a knowing look, a fleeting glance, a nod of approval.

They mutually admired one another, recognized a kindred spirit, a shared love of the hunt.

And yet, they consistently remained separated by the invisible membrane which would not allow them to permeate the other's space; would not allow them to take up residence in the other's life, would not let them speak or even touch. They taunted wordlessly, week in and week out, observing, evaluating, circumventing.

Until the day when they spotted each other across the room, out of their standard milieu, out of their masterful comfort zones, thrown together in a mundane business setting. Their individual prowess at manipulating the opposite sex was shelved here amidst the pedestrian concerns of business, where all were bound by propriety and sobriety.

How to speak? How to be the selves they recognized in the presence of the other without letting their professional credentials suffer? He, Edward the powerful, and she, Bella the incisive. Together at last, however impotent, they discussed the finer points of a business transaction in which the mutual fascination with each other was undeniable.

She was pretty, there was no denying that. Her hair was long, and she wore it loose, unlike the other tightly wound females at the table. It begged to be touched, wrapped around a fist, or lazily traced as the tendrils curled possessively down over her breast and under the silk of her blouse.

Her face was precious, girlish even, but with the slightest arch of an eyebrow – fathomless. Long dark eyelashes framed her deep brown eyes, and high cheekbones were dusted with tiny little freckles that often turned peach-hued with a ready blush. Her lips were like those of a doll, perfectly pinked and pouted, fuller than most, yet unadorned with color. A shiny gloss hung there, making every male notice when she smiled, or when they parted even slightly to emit a breath or a sigh. When pursed in concentration or wrapped around the pencil she used for her sparse, intermittent notes, brain power and business acumen walked abruptly from the room.

She was unapologetically shapely. Her waist curved and invited the hand like an expensive mink coat or a fine silk. Her legs were long, rather thin actually, but took on pin-up proportions in the obviously expensive shoes she wore. Her breasts were deliciously round, pert and attentive, and the filmy quality of her blouse showed that she took care in clothing them properly with lace and satin, gently cupping them in a scandalously feminine scrap of a bra.

She was comfortable, confident, and graceful as she moved, so much so that it almost seemed every movement was orchestrated: the way she leaned across to touch something on the table, her leg lifting slightly off the floor, her blouse opening a slight bit to provide a lip-licking peek at her lingerie, the vent up the back of her skirt playfully pulling open to see a generous length of thigh.

**(*)*(*)*(*)**

He was beautiful and utterly inviting in his day-time habit. His clean-shaven face was in direct contrast to the serious shadow he generated by five o'clock, and the friction of his beard branded women with angrily reddened thighs from his languorous and tantalizing kisses. His tender and sensual mouth looked like it was made for suckling and his lips were impossibly red. His cherubic beauty was interrupted by a prominently masculine jaw which begged the stroke of a fingertip, and a furrowed and heavy brow gave him the seriousness of unrelenting power.

His body was long, lanky, and towered over most. His shoulders were nicely muscled and broad, and his waist tapered invitingly into tailored, close-fitting pants made of the finest wool. His sizeable feet were clad in hand-crafted leather lace-ups, and if his jacket was unbuttoned, a matching belt could be seen below the gloriously tight abdomen.

His body was hard everywhere, dusted with hair that glistened bronze in the sunlight, his head crowned with a bounty of the thickest, silkiest strands. His hands glided through it near constantly, showcasing nimble, exquisite fingers, perfectly groomed and capable of eliciting rapt fascination even at the business table.

He dominated. There was no doubt about that, and his height and obvious comfort with himself and others made all eyes turn to him. His voice was velvet, rubbing over psyches and eliciting fantasies, and his movements masterfully manipulated all in the surrounding environment.

*!*!*!*!*

In this, the _real world_, they maintained their distance, circling each other still, listening with intent curiosity for the voice of the other, gratified that looks had not been deceiving. They were equals in business as in bars, it seemed, and they felt further synchronized. They gravitated toward one another but resisted, as getting too close in this environment could topple the carefully orchestrated evening ritual they'd developed.

The curiosity, however, remained and burned like a lamp behind his eyes and narrowed hers as she observed him. They appreciated the prowess of the other, acknowledging the night-life compatibility as well as the newly discovered day-time collegiality.

Inevitably, she began to play and he commenced to hunt. In this room, with a smaller selection, they had only each other as equals. They had only each other as rivals. Could they best one another in this world as well? Could they compare notes with a glance in such a small circle of acquaintances? They both deeply appreciated the challenge at hand, but innately understood that the lesser mortals in the room might notice if and when the tension reached its peak. They ultimately refrained.

Lunch was an affair to remember. Naturally, they both possessed impeccable table manners and offered nothing but appropriate and engaging lunch time conversation, but when she laughed, he could not stop his gaze from settling upon her. He was silent for a moment, watching her eyes dance and she acknowledged his attention with a teasing grin.

A short while later over dessert, his mouth lingered a bit too long on his chocolate cheesecake, and he trapped her eyes with his while he drew the fork slowly through his lips. She watched as his tongue swept over his lower lip and then he raised an eyebrow ever so slightly in her direction.

The meeting dragged in the afternoon with lunch causing a sleepy buzz during a lecture on tactics and strategy. Both luxuriated in the sensual feeling brought on by satiety, and they dragged their eyes down each other, allowing for a lingering inspection, a challenging stare. When the lights dimmed for a PowerPoint presentation near the close, their eyes locked with taser-like energy as he ran his hand through his hair and she took her lower lip softly between her teeth.

The meeting adjourned and was deserted rapidly, and preparation for the night's activities began. The game was afoot.

*~!~*~!~*~!~*~!~*

He arrived sharply at nine o'clock, wearing khakis and a black v-neck sweater. He hadn't shaved but had showered and applied scent. He was dressed for comfort and approachability without the sacrifice of his menacing and distinctive masculinity.

She arrived at quarter past nine, wearing fitted black satin pants and a black sleeveless sweater with a mink collar. Her hair was up in an artfully arranged mess and she wore black high-heeled patent leather booties. She was dressed to snare.

They acknowledged one another as always with a mutual glance of appreciation. They were surrounded by their acquaintances, minions of a sort, who were similar but not as proficient at the art of seduction. They were small groups of three, intimate, approachable. It was an unwritten agreement that they were present to gather new flowers and tame wild young stallions, not to untangle the mysteries of the other.

Tonight the timbre of the greeting had changed. His gaze lingered just a bit longer and he took her in while she watched. He'd always catalogued her clothing when she turned to order her first drink, but today, he let her see his appreciative survey.

She, on the other hand, flipped her gaze away almost immediately, disdainfully, to ensure that she conveyed the minimal interest possible. This was, in fact, the very opposite of what her mind and body were telling her to do.

Things began in earnest with dancing. Normally, her group would take the dance floor confidently, owning the space exclusively, showcasing bodies that were primed for fantasy and wish fulfillment. Potentials would crowd them, trying to infiltrate, and then one by one, they would pair off and continue dancing with their chosen ones.

His group would wait to be approached. Someone always braved the trio after a dose of liquid courage, and they would chat and inevitably take the floor, surprising surrounding people with the unexpected delight of beautiful male bodies moving skillfully, sensually, with the unspoken promise of romance in the form of a slow dance.

Secretly they admired one another. She was lithe and graceful, and invariably suggestive. He was sexual, predatory, and occasionally playful. Her group was practiced and skilled and elitist, as was his.

Dances ended and groups reconvened to dissect the possibilities. Tonight, martinis arrived, uninvited at her table. The blond dimpled beauty at his table nodded their way. The dark haired pixie at her table nodded in return.

It appeared, at least for those two that the wait was over. During the next dance, the deal was sealed as dark haired pixie curled herself around blond beauty and his unadulterated lust was rewarded as they left together.

Still, she had one companion, as did he. The night moved forward, conversations buzzed, and each table had two heads huddled together in cool strategizing. Dancing got a little more complicated. Two dancing were easier to infiltrate than three, and she found herself dancing unexpectedly with more than one suitor at a time.

He found that waiting was no longer an option and so he circulated with his proverbial wingman, prowling for the next juicy tidbit of opportunity.

_His song_ came on and she knew he would dance with any available body. She too selected someone for proximity's sake and they locked eyes for a second over their supposed partners. She was unguarded and regretted it instantly. With unanticipated vigor and obvious intention, he bumped into her and his wingman faked a fall into her friend. Both ignored the fill-ins and turned to each other - their obviously better choices - and the spurned dance partners left the floor, trying to hide their shame.

The wingman and remaining friend playfully coupled and left immediately, and she turned toward him completely, solidifying their new status. He moved closer, dancing into her personal space, his height causing him to loom over her.

She felt a rush at his nearness and looked up into his eyes, closer now than ever before. She thought of Christmas, the scent of evergreens and balsam, of crisp winter air and the freedom of still silence.

He looked down at her and felt the warmth of hot chocolate, the comfort of a raging fire, and the quiet embrace of tranquility.

And then there were two.

She felt impossibly desirable and reveled in the feeling that her already undeniable femininity was enhanced just by being close to him. He surrounded her like a lion, lazily swishing his tail, silently and powerfully warning all others that she was now his.

He felt invigorated with her gaze, sparks shooting through his entire body, prickles of energy making his skin tighten, his hands itching to touch her, and when she reached her fingers up to trace his lips, he imprisoned it in his, depriving her of his mouth, lazily kissing each of her fingertips.

"Bella," he said, looking down at her as she allowed herself to be led.

"Edward," she said, surrendering to the undeniable dark promise in his eyes.

He cradled her against him, tucked under his arm as they walked to his car. They didn't speak as they drove, his hand warmly enfolding hers. She let her eyes rest upon him, sliding over the details of his face as he guided them through the night, and at every opportunity, he turned and drank her in. They arrived and he opened her car door, extended his hand, and swept her into the cocoon of his body.

His house was modern, darkly paneled, and smelled of leather and vanilla. The comfort was immediate and complete while they touched, moved, breathed. Their carefully constructed façade of clothes and propriety disappeared.

There was no question about what they were doing. There was no conversation or small talk to ease the tension. They lived for the tension. They rocketed through the stratosphere of tension and let it propel them to touch, kiss, embrace and fall.

He was truly masterful, and she played him like a Stradivarius. Hands fitted to the other, shaping themselves around curves and hardness, exploring softness and darkness. Lips were fire as they ravaged the forest of his body and his tongue was a marauder as it brought her world crashing down around her.

And then there was one.

*#*#*#*#*

He hovered, poised above her, and she writhed, the snake to his charmer, daring him to take her. He touched her thighs, pushing them apart, kneeling between them. He cradled her hips in his hands, lifting her to meet him, curling himself around her, sealing them together, locking their bodies.

She enveloped him, the promise of her body answering any lingering doubts. His suckling mouth, a wish fulfilled. Her pouty pink lips, a haven. His nimble fingers, a catalyst of pleasure. Her rounded breasts, a sensual gift.

They moved together, lost in the world they'd sought but only now found.

He growled, she hissed.

He thrust, she bucked.

They sighed. Together.

Curled in sleep, their bodies connected, she burrowed into him, and his answering embrace solidified the merging of their worlds.


	3. Chapter 3: Picture This

Title: **Picture This**  
>Category: Books » Twilight<br>Language: English, Rating: Rated: M  
>Published: 01-07-10<br>_**Stephenie Meyer gifted us with her creation and she owns the essence of what I shamelessly use within.**_

_**A/N: I decided to post this as a one-shot for the purposes of "Cheryl's Favorites" since I originally intended it as a standalone…**_

* * *

><p>I was tired of preening, fawning, pretending. I was sick of every little nuance – every angle, dip, and twist. I was growing tired of being objectified and adored.<p>

She was detached, though. She executed her job, clicking almost distractedly as I tried to imagine situations in my head to produce the looks she requested. Miss Bella Swan, photographer extraordinaire.

"Pout," she commanded, and I instantly responded, relaxing my mouth so that my lips protruded just the tiniest bit. I thought of rubbing my lips over hers, softly, not kissing, just teasing.

She was quite pretty. Small, thin, tomboyish. I guessed she was a lesbian, strictly because she was so damned serious and so very, very dispassionate. Usually I could eke some sort of flirtatious behavior from a girl, but not this one – she was strictly business.

She tried to make the world think she was unconscious of her looks. She was trying to prove that she wasn't trying too hard. The only thing that belied her _I don't give a shit _aura was the makeup. She wore very well-applied black smudgy eye makeup and her hair was cut really, really well. It framed her face in the most adorable pixie-ish manner, and her eyes were seriously emphasized by the hair and the makeup. She didn't do much with the rest of her face because she didn't have to.

"Contemplative," she said, and I went back to summer camp when I was 17, pretending to sleep on a raft in the middle of a lake, listening to my friend chase a girl around, then the subsequent sounds of their adolescent fumblings in the dark when he caught her and persuaded her to kiss him.

"Edward," she said, sounding ticked.

"Oh, sorry," I said.

"You really were somewhere else, weren't you?" she asked, her voice softening, the first bit of personality showing through the professional demeanor. She stood there, the camera sort of hanging at her side, looking at me with her head tipped to the side. I could almost see the flirty girl waiting to come out and play.

"Yeah," I admitted. "Summer camp when I was 17."

"You can't be much older than that now," she scoffed, obviously thinking herself worldly and wise.

"I'm an official adult of 22," I argued, squinting a little and challenging her while I pursed my lips and leaned toward her.

She effortlessly slung the camera up again, snapping photos while I started to feel sort of impish.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"23," she answered, but it was too quick and I could tell she was lying. She wouldn't look at me. She was back to looking at details, mentally framing up photos in her head, professionalism firmly back in place.

"What did you do at summer camp?" she asked.

"Canoeing," I said. "Frisbee, swimming in lakes, learning French."

"You learned French at summer camp?" she asked skeptically.

"_Oui_," I answered. "_Lac du Bois_ was an intensive language camp in Minnesota and I went every summer. No English allowed."

"Hmm," she said. "Does it come in handy?"

"When I went to the Olympics I could listen in both languages and comprehend," I said. "And I can still sing the entire French national anthem."

"Hmm," she said again. "Displeasure."

"Displeasure?" I asked.

"For the picture," she said, shifting the camera briefly from her face to look at me.

I thought about how badly I wanted to go home for Christmas and how I couldn't. Then I thought of how much I was going to miss the family meal and my brothers and sisters.

"What are you thinking of now?" she asked from behind the lens.

"I'm missing my family's Christmas this year," I said, sounding as grumpy as I felt.

"This _can't_ be the first time," she said, skepticism coloring her voice.

"Well it _is_," I said petulantly. I felt really annoyed by the whole idea that I was missing Christmas for work and suddenly I didn't even want to continue the photo shoot. "How much longer?" I asked, sounding very whiny.

"I have you all to myself for another 45 minutes," she said. "Shall we change the mood a little?"

"Yes, I didn't like that last one," I said, feeling sad now.

"Can I capture that look first?" she asked quietly.

"What look?" I asked.

"You look a little sad now, and your face is just beautiful," she said, sounding awed.

_Really_? I thought it my head. "How can sadness be beautiful?" I asked.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," she answered. "I'm sure you've heard that before. And I'm sure you've seen Michelangelo's sculpture of the _Pieta_. That is _anguish_ - unadulterated grief – in the eyes and body of the Madonna, and it is one of the most poignant, beautiful pieces of art in the human experience. Surely you can understand that?"

"I suppose so," I said. I thought of going back to my lonely temporary apartment, driving through the night alone in my expensive car, eating by myself.

"There's that look again," she said. "You're breathtaking."

"Do you really think I'm breathtaking or are you just saying that?" I asked. Surely she was not being sincere. Photographers didn't talk like this, let alone want to take sad pictures of sex symbols.

"Of course I do," she answered. "I requested and fought for this assignment just to have you all to myself."

"Yes, and why is that?" I asked. "Why is it just you and me?"

"Do you want others around? I can get them if you feel safer with an entourage," she said bitchily.

She was mocking me now.

And I was annoyed again.

"Oh! I like that one," she said, referring to the sudden furrowing of my brow. "Angry Edward. Girls will swoon."

"You're crossing the line," I said, feeling my ire and indignation rise at her taunting.

"It's just to evoke that stormy look you're giving me, and your body language is just delicious," she said, while she snapped picture after picture, walking around so that I would turn. "Your fists are clenched and it makes your arms look fantastic! And I can't believe how your body just sort of puffed up like a cobra about to strike."

This little snot was completely detached and yet pressed my buttons skillfully and willfully. I felt out of control and realized in that second that she was manipulating the hell out of me.

"You've got some nerve, don't you?" I asked. I actually thought she was sort of merciless.

"Mm," she hummed. "I love that stare. You look like you're going to tear someone limb from limb."

The stupid girl didn't realize I wanted to rip _her_ to pieces at the moment for her heartless games. I felt my face constrict even further.

"Ooh," she said. "You look positively menacing now!"

She sounded gleeful about it. I was seething with rage and I wanted to destroy the fucking camera. I imagined grabbing it and whipping it across the room and watching it smash to pieces, the pictures on it forgotten, her silly games an exercise in futility.

"And now?" she asked.

"Now what?" I said, confused yet again.

"What are you thinking?" she prodded. "You look satisfied somehow when you were just so angry a second ago."

"I was imagining the wanton destruction of a certain photographic device," I said smoothly, calmly, feeling a grin spread across my face as I stared at the corner where I imagined the dead camera.

"You look like you just got away with murder," she said, click, click, clicking my picture.

"In a way, I did," I said dreamily.

"Seductive," she said.

"Can we turn on some music?" I asked.

"Sure. Do you want to choose, or do want me to?" she asked, shifting her camera away and walking over to a stereo with an iPod attached.

"You choose," I said, curious as to what she might perceive as seductive. Probably the Indigo Girls or Amy Winehouse.

Corinne Bailey Ray surged from the speakers singing "I'd Like To" and I sort of choked and started coughing on my incredulous laughter.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Um, yeah," I sputtered. "What made you choose this song?"

"It sounds sensual to me, especially that line that goes _I'd like to put my fingers on you_…" she said. "And then, as weird as it sounds, there's another line about _chicken that's hot and sweet_, and it just makes me think of seduction."

I had the very same CD in my expensive lonely car right now, and had spent a while driving at night, wishing for a receiver of my own fingers.

"So this is yours?" I asked, leaning toward her, looking at her in a new light. She was starting to be rather masterful in my eyes, and I found it distracting, frustrating, and entirely too attractive.

"Mm. That's the look," she said, her voice sounding different. She was closer, very near my face. "Your eyes are positively mesmerizing," she said. "Keep thinking whatever you're thinking. And I don't need to know what it is this time," she said, momentarily looking right at me. Little dimples that I hadn't seen before formed around her mouth as she smiled in satisfaction.

My eyes climbed over her body, studying her in detail now that she was close enough. She wore fitted black pants which had some stretch in them, because she was squatting in front of me, moving easily around me and the pants didn't look at all uncomfortable. Her shirt was what initially appeared to be a simple white t-shirt, but upon closer inspection, it was actually a real shirt, with little details of stitching worked into the hems around the sleeves. She was braless, and she wore no earrings. As I studied her, I realized with a start that her ears weren't even pierced.

"Your ears aren't pierced?" I said. This last detail made me practically jump on top of her. It was innocent and decidedly rebellious all at once. Unmarred, unharmed earlobes – what a novelty…

"No. I don't like pain," she said, as if it were the most obvious reason in the world.

Such a simplistic and rational reason, which made me desperately want to explore those tender bits of flesh that she'd protected. Somehow - maybe with my lips, my fingertips, my tongue – anything.

"Sex," she said.

I swallowed hard.

"What?" I asked.

"Sex, Edward," she said. "Can you give me that look?"

"Uh, um, like I'm having it or like I want it?" I said, feeling stupid for the clarification.

"Well, since you gave me a choice, how about with go with wanting first, then having?" she said, looking down and scanning through some of her shots.

I felt like I was on the dissection table again, and berated myself for getting all worked up around this photographer while she remained completely and utterly detached from the entire experience.

I decided then to use her. She was using me – it was only fair. I imagined us in high school – she, as the reluctant ostracized virgin, and I, as the BMOC (big man on campus). We were in my room, in my parent's house, the door open, studying finished, listening to music and making out. I imagined her on top of me, grinding a little, rapidly losing control, and kissing me while she let me slip my hand up the front of her shirt, my mom and dad just one room away.

I imagined sneaking a feel under her bra, touching the glory of her breasts softly, barely touching her nipple, trying to persuade her to let me have a little.

She'd protest that the door was open, and I'd touch a little more, kiss a little more, smiling up at her. _Please_? I would cajole quietly, _just a little_?

"Did you say something Edward?" she said. I heard the camera clicking away and I guess I must've looked appropriately sexy at this moment.

"No," I murmured.

"Are we wanting or having?" she asked.

"Wanting, desperately wanting," I murmured, lost as I connected her body before me with the fantasy inside my head.

"Mm," she replied, walking around me, my eyes following her, my breathing a little deeper.

I sank back in, working my hand into the front of her panties, feeling her wetness, trying to reach further down to slip my fingers inside of her, but she wouldn't let me.

Externally, I was squeezing, touching, caressing the chaise I was on. I was rock hard and if I was on my stomach I surely would've been rubbing against the furniture like an embarrassing dog. Could she tell? Was she even looking?

Back in my fantasy I'd pulled a blanket up around her and she'd lowered her bottoms. She opened up my jeans and slid them just below my hips. She was grinding her warm wetness against my hardness and still wouldn't let me in.

She moved slowly back and forth on top of me, rocking her hips yet keeping her upper body as still as possible, and she pressed into me, squeezing her wetness against me while her lips and tongue danced playfully over my mouth.

"Having now?" said Miss Bella Swan, a smile in her voice.

I'd been staring into the camera while I fantasized, not at all conscious of the fact that it was attached to this girl.

"No," I whispered. "Almost."

"Hmm," she hummed.

I closed my eyes now, wishing I could let my hands roam over my body to exacerbate the sensual unresolved feelings I'd created in my head. I imagined the pent-up feelings of illicit sex, winning over the shy girl, persuading her to do naughty, naughty things to me. And then I pictured Bella, her lips dragging over mine, my hands under her shirt, her hips straddling me on the chaise, moving against me.

"Okay," she said, her voice gently breaking through the sexual haze. I almost thought she was consenting.

"Okay what?" I said, feeling like I'd just woken up or had way too much to drink.

"Let's go," she said. Again, let's go? To do it?

"What?" I said, confused.

"We need to go check the images briefly," she said. I gave her a confused look. "To see if we need to shoot more or if we can wrap it up for the night," she explained.

"Oh," I said, coming back to earth with a crash.

I yanked myself back to reality. Just because I was using her in my mind didn't mean she was really there with me. I needed to rein it in and get with the program before I stood up. She was going to see how true to life the pictures were in just a second if I didn't get myself under control.

I was wearing drawstring sweatpants and a t-shirt with a vest over it. The lines of my body were unmistakable and I needed to think of anything to get my mind off of sex with this girl. I stood up and turned away from her in one movement to check the damage while I was standing.

"Edward?" she prodded. "Are you coming?"

Coming? Is she kidding me? "Do I have to?" I asked, trying to sound bored rather than frantic.

"Well, if you don't like the photos, you'll need to tell me," she said.

"In that case, lead the way," I said, hoping that while I was following her I could get myself under control.

She turned on her heel and walked to a small room in the corner and turned on a computer. She plugged her camera into the USB port and stood at the desk, scrolling through the pictures. By now, I just had a slight bulge in the pants area, which could be misconstrued as simply a lucky gene pool rather than arousal.

It did not help matters at all that she had such a pretty little heart-shaped ass which was easily seen while she leaned over the desk.

"What do you think?" she asked, turning her head to catch me staring at her rear end. "Edward?" she said, sounding miffed.

"I like them," I said, and added under my breath, "As much as I can like pictures of myself."

At that moment, the picture of my sad face came up. For some reason I said, "Stop." I studied the picture and was amazed that she'd captured me so clearly. Usually my pictures were somehow a pathetic excuse, an obviously faked portrayal of me – a slightly distorted version of Edward. This sad one was accurate. It looked like me, looking in the mirror.

"Can you scroll back a bit?" I asked, curious if they all looked this way.

She obliged me and I realized that her photos were all true to life. I was intensely curious as to what the sex pictures looked like.

"Can you scroll forward?" I requested.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Is there something you'd like to reshoot?"

She scrolled forward, now past the sad picture, and on to the angry photo. I liked those pictures a lot. I did look menacing as she'd said, and was satisfied that if I ever wanted to intimidate someone, I might actually be able to do so.

She continued on, and there it was – Edward Cullen immersed in sexual fantasy. I felt like laughing out loud. I didn't look posed, but I immediately remembered what had elicited those looks.

She paused on the 'having' picture without my request and studied it.

"What do you think of this one?" she asked.

I studied the last picture she'd taken before we came in. I was embarrassed that it was so easy to see the unguarded lust in my face.

"Um, I don't know if we should use that one," I stammered.

"Why?" she asked. I expected her to explain why we should, but she stood up and stepped back to look at the screen.

"Well," I started, "I look sort of ridiculous I think," I said.

"Really?" she asked, a hint of disagreement in her voice.

"Don't you?" I asked. I couldn't help but seek her consensus. I felt so vulnerable. If she only knew…

"I think it looks like nothing else you've ever done," she said. "I could see this being the pin-up poster of the year," she added.

"Why do you say that?" I asked, doubting due to my self-consciousness, but knowing she was probably right.

"Look at you!" she said. "A girl would look at this picture and say 'he wants me' with absolute confidence. It would make your fans insane."

I wondered if it did anything to _her_. She was so unreachable.

"So do _you_ like it?" I asked.

"From an objective standpoint, the picture is more _Playgirl_ than _Teen Beat_, but yes, I like it a lot," she said, her voice somewhat hushed. "I think it's some of my best work."

"I wonder if I really look like that when I have sex," I wondered aloud. I'd discovered that people really didn't care when celebrities let it all hang out, and I'd strategically done it on occasion to elicit reactions from people.

She didn't bite.

And she had an acerbic comeback: "I'm sure you have a video camera."

I was astonished and couldn't even fake righteous indignation. I started laughing out loud then, all the tension draining from the room and from my body. I found myself doubling over in laughter after a few seconds.

She was looking at me like I was having a nervous breakdown.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"You are so surprising," I said, still chuckling, unable to stop. Intermittent giggles kept bubbling up out of my mouth as she shut down the computer.

"So I take it you don't want to shoot anything else? All meet with your approval?" she asked.

"Yes, you do amazing work," I said, smiling down at her.

"Excellent," she said. "Well, I'll get the proofs out to you and your agent tomorrow or the next day and you can make some selections that we'll use for the magazine." Then she added, "I would definitely _not_ use that last one, though, unless you want to sell it to _Interview_ or something similarly edgy."

"Edgy?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, looking right at me. "Sex is edgy."

I wanted her. I wanted to tell her about my fantasy and I wanted to go out with her to see what a real conversation would be like. "Do you want to know what I was thinking about?" I asked.

She led me from the room, grabbing a sweater and pulling it on over her head. "You can change back into your clothes if you want," she said. I couldn't help but wonder if maybe she didn't hear me. "If you like the outfit, you're welcome to it," she added, "Compliments of the magazine."

"You didn't answer," I said, sounding like a disappointed little kid.

"My answer is no," she said quietly, looking right at me for a second, and then turning toward the shoot area and starting to turn off lights and to tidy up the space. She didn't look at me again.

_She was definitely a lesbian_, I told myself. How could she not want to know? I would've been burning with curiosity to see what made people look like they were having edgy sex. But then again, I was a man. A heterosexual man, and she was _obviously_ a lesbian.

I mentally smacked myself then, realizing what a pathetic egomaniac I'd become. I was so used to women fawning over my every move, hanging on my every word, that I actually was expecting the same behavior from this girl. I was utterly unfamiliar with someone who couldn't give a damn about Edward Cullen at this moment. What an oddity. What a novelty. What an opportunity…

We were sitting at a concert, good music actually, and I was drinking beer. Well, drinking _many_ beers to be precise. I was 22. This is what I did. I worked, partied, and looked for women who wanted to spend time with me. And by that, I meant that I got drunk enough to not really care that someone was following me home to try and get a piece. At some point or other, I stopped caring and said _What the heck_ and indulged myself.

At this very moment in fact, my arm was slung around a blond woman who had made a seriously unabashed grab for my attention. I had no idea who she was – she wasn't a celebrity and she wasn't part of the film – but she was here at the concert and she was lavishing me with attention.

I leered sideways at her and saw a flash. _Well that sucked_, I thought. I'd be blind for the next five minutes now and who knows what kind of caption would be attached to that photo.

I was wasted. I was feeling sloppy and out of sorts and worst of all, rejected.

That silly little photographer had rejected me.

I was a fool though, for even reaching in her direction, for even going down that road. I was full of myself and assumed she would want me. I hated being wrong, and embarrassed, and an idiot.

The blond next to me was looking like a suitable ego-soother. It felt good – why not?

I was just about to lean in to kiss the blond when I saw a girl two rows down, nodding her head to the music. She had that black haircut and she turned briefly to look at me.

She did more than look at me. She sought me out.

It was her.

I immediately felt stone-cold sober.

She looked quickly away but the damage was done. The blond in my arm was forgotten and I frantically pushed my way over to the photographer.

What was her name again?

Christmas? No. Bells? Belle? BELLA.

It rang out in my head and was out of my mouth before I could censor myself.

"Bella!" I hollered over the music, climbing over chairs and people to get to her. "Bella!"

She turned again and smirked at me. And then I noticed that she was standing next to someone, another girl. _Her lover_, I assumed.

I finally reached her and tried to recover my alcohol-induced 'cool guy' exterior.

"Hey," she said, nonchalantly.

"Hi Bella," I said, smiling from ear to ear. "Do you like this band?"

She laughed quietly. I was mesmerized by her smirk and now her smile. "Um, yes Edward, that's why I'm here." She looked amused and turned to her partner (or whatever). "Edward, this is Rosalie," she said.

Rosalie scared the hell out of me. She was almost my height and stunningly gorgeous to behold, but she had a hard edge to her that screamed _Stay the fuck away_.

"Nice to meet you," I said, hollering over the music at Rosalie.

"Who are you here with?" Bella asked.

"Some people from the film," I said. "I really don't know anyone else except now you."

She looked confused, but smiled a little just the same.

"Are you drunk?" she asked.

I was suddenly conscious of the countless beers I'd consumed and felt a little dizzy and unsteady. "Well, I wouldn't say drunk, but I _have_ been drinking."

"Yes I smell the beer," she said, laughing. She rolled her eyes and looked at the blond. She picked up her beer and acted like she was toasting me. I raised my beer as well and we clinked bottles and the neck of hers broke and beer foamed up and out of the top.

"Oh God I'm sorry," I said, feeling like a total ass again. Why did I feel so self-conscious around this girl? All I wanted to do was figure her out and I was now certain that I was pushing her away by being such an idiot.

"Here, have mine," I mumbled, having noticed that we were drinking the same brand of beer. She took it, again looking confused, and I had no desire but to get away from her as soon as possible.

"Have fun," I said, and ducked my head and turned to flee back to my seat.

The blond I had forsaken was gone. I looked around for a waitress to get another beer and thankfully, someone handed me one without me even having to ask. I wanted to obliterate myself tonight. I hadn't felt this lonely in ages so I started drinking quicker. I wanted to pass out or get so drunk I could forget what I was missing in life.

I don't remember getting home, but when I started feeling coherent again, everyone was in my apartment, and somehow I had my guitar and I was playing, goofing around, singing even.

_She_ was here. With Rosalie, their heads together in the corner, doing who knows what. So I played and showed off, and then got depressed again, so I just sung all the melancholy Christmas tunes I knew, letting my voice snag on the notes, lingering over the particularly whiny passages of "Silent Night" and "The Christmas Song."

I stopped looking at her. It only made me more depressed.

"So what's everyone doing for the holiday?" asked Mike, a boisterous, fun-loving guy.

I snarled internally, but listened for her reply.

Instead, I heard Rosalie. "We're going to my parents' house," she said, obviously including Bella.

"So are we," said Emmett, a big muscle-head guy who was really just an all around nice person. He smiled hugely at Rosalie who looked away and tucked her head back close to Bella.

"Bam!" I said, watching Emmett take the hit.

Emmett looked over at me and smiled as he shrugged it off.

I started to sing "Jingle Bells" in French, only instead of coming out as the boisterous Christmas carol it was it came out as a melancholy ballad. I felt alone and figured since no one was paying any attention to me, I'd just play for myself. I lingered over the notes, playing chords that were simple and then complicated, and then downright difficult. I played some guitar concerto that I'd goofed around with years ago, and then when I screwed it up, I started singing it, accompanying myself.

I was lost in my melodious doodling when she walked over.

"Do you take requests?" she asked.

"Is it for you or is it a dedication to your girlfriend?" I asked, strumming lazily.

"It's for me," she answered, adding quietly, "Just for you and me."

"Then I could," I said. "What do you want to hear?"

"I'd Like To," she said.

"Hmm," I mumbled, my headspace shifting right back to the photo session.

I had played the blues-y song a number of times, so it came flitting off my fingers easily and she hummed along for a second before Rosalie came and sat down beside her.

I was lost in listening to her and concentrating on playing the song when I heard Rosalie whisper, "I'm going home with Emmett. Can you get a ride?"

"Of course I can," answered Bella. "Just don't be stupid. Remember, he's an _actor _now."

"I'm a big girl, remember?" hissed Rosalie.

Rosalie left almost immediately and Bella turned to look at me. I met her gaze and said, "She's not your girlfriend?"

"Uh… No," she answered, sounding confused. "She's my sister."

"So you need a ride home now?" I asked.

"Maybe," she answered.

I stopped playing and leaned over the guitar to get closer to her. "You could stay here."

"Mm-hmm," she murmured noncommittally.

"I'm only saying that because everyone else is staying too," I said, feeling angry. I got up and walked quickly away, trying to spare feeling any more humiliated.

I shut myself in the bathroom and slowly thumped my forehead on the closed door. Repeatedly. She didn't want me. Of course she wasn't interested. _Leave her alone_, I told myself.

There was a soft knock.

"Occupied," I moaned, continuing to hit my head on the door.

"I'm desperate," she whispered loudly, and since it was Bella, I opened the door.

She came in quickly, pushing me back with her body and closing the door, locking it decisively. I watched her quietly, deciding not to play into her wicked manipulative hands again.

"What's so desperate?" I said, still feeling sad and a little irritated since she obviously didn't want me.

"I didn't want to be out there alone without anyone I knew. I hate to be _that_ girl, sitting there with no one to talk to at a party," she explained.

"So you thought coming in the bathroom _with me_ was the solution?" I asked.

"Well, at least I sort of know you," she said.

"Interesting," I said.

"You're a good guitar player," she observed.

"I play piano too," I said.

"Are you good at that?" she asked.

"Better than guitar actually," I said. I had to remind myself to shut down, to keep myself in. I was desperately trying to keep my excitement at bay because I _wanted_ to be alone with her, _wanted_ to talk to her, but was worried she'd turn it off and shut down again.

"You sing?" I asked.

"Only for myself," she said.

"And the photography?" I prompted.

"I'm obsessed," she said. "Since I was about seven I've been sort of consumed with it."

"Sounds like music to me," I said.

"Where does the whole acting thing fit in?" she asked.

"I like to be the center of attention sometimes," I said. "Only I tend to realize too late that I actually _don't_ like being the center of attention."

"Henceforth the acting but the fear of crowds," she stated.

"Pretty much," I said. "I like acting – it's really fun, but then to deal with the _real_ people afterward – that pretty much sucks."

"Do you read reviews of your work?" she asked.

"No," I said. "I can't handle it. I get defensive because I tend to believe all the bad stuff people write about me."

"But you liked your pictures today," she verified.

"Yeah," I admitted. "You seemed to really capture me instead of some posed hyped-up version of me."

"Why is that?" she asked.

"Why is what?" I said, mystified.

"Why was the real you on display? You seemed completely vulnerable and open, even with the sexy pictures – you were so honest. Why is that?" she prompted.

I stared at the floor, wondering if she was just experimenting with me again, trying to elicit the desired response or did she really want to know?

"Do you even care?" I asked feeling depressed about the whole thing. I looked up at her, feeling irritated again. Why bother going down this road when I knew she didn't really want me.

She simply looked back expectantly, not talking.

Naturally, I had to fill the silence. I was never one to sit with awkward pauses in the conversations. I either had to make it more awkward or downright theatrical by filling the silence with my own drivel.

"I wish I had my guitar," I said miserably.

"Why?" she asked. She was a strange girl. She didn't seem to have a filter about which questions not to ask. She also seemed just as serious and awkward as me.

"I would be goofing around with it instead of sitting here feeling like an idiot," I said quietly.

"Why do you feel like an idiot?" she asked.

"Because I know you really don't care. I know you don't give a shit and I don't feel like trying to be witty. If I had my guitar I could just play and not worry about this," I said.

"You're worried?" she asked. "Why would you be worried now when you weren't worried before?"

I didn't want to tell her that I was onto her game. I didn't want to tell her that I wouldn't be part of her power play any more. So instead, I avoided. "I'm going to bed," I announced. "Are you staying here or what?"

She looked stricken. I was forcing her to make a decision apparently, and instead of answering, she stared at me.

I shrugged and stood up, feeling a little off-balance now, and unlocked the door. She watched me open the door and then scrambled up to follow me.

"I'm staying," she said defiantly. She sounded mad. Then she added, "I'm staying with you."

"Whatever," I said, irritated, trying to shake off the feeling that somehow this was screwed up and it was my fault again.

I opened my arms and said in my loudest stage voice, "I'm going to bed everyone. Have fun."

Everyone chimed in a _Goodnight Edward_, and I grabbed my guitar and went to the bedroom. I walked in and saw that she was immediately behind me so I let her in and shut the door and locked it. There would be no strange psycho-girl invasions tonight. I went into my private bath and went pee (with the door closed) and then started to strip off my clothes from the day.

Down to my underwear, I got under the covers and she still stood there, looking lost.

"Well?," I prompted.

She went to the bathroom and it sounded like she washed her face before she came and stood in the doorway. I had turned out the lights and was rapidly growing sleepy. I squinted over at her and then she silently made her way over to the bed.

I could hear her, shuffling around, sliding out of her pants and socks, and then she slipped under the covers with me. I could feel her body heat immediately, but was too drowsy to care and let my eyelids close. She was quiet and barely made a dent in the mattress so I didn't feel imposed upon at all.

I was pinned. I could move, but I didn't really want to, mainly because I wasn't uncomfortable. I was suffused with warmth and as I slowly entered consciousness, I realized someone was nestled in my armpit, her leg thrown between mine with her toes tucked underneath my calf, her arm curled over my chest. I could feel her hair on the arm that encircled her, and her soft breath ghosted over my collar bone. I could tell she was asleep, and I could tell that I had similarly wrapped myself around her in the night.

She fit me.

My fingertips were resting on her arm, and I quietly moved my hand to fully lie against her skin. My palm was resting on her now, my fingers wrapped loosely around her arm, and I let it lazily travel up, caressing the skin, feeling the curve of her so nicely against my hand. Over her shoulder, up the slight curve of her neck, and back down over her shoulder blade, down along her ribs, over the hem of her shirt to rest on her waist. The small indent perfectly formed to let my fingers rest there while I contemplated how soft and wondrous she felt.

Her leg moved, her thigh rubbing softly yet perfectly against mine, creating a gentle friction that felt almost therapeutic. She rolled onto her back, her lips slightly parted, and her hand dropped from my chest to lie on her stomach. I traced down her arm, down to her fingers, covering them with my hand, and again, she seemed to fit perfectly against me, every dip and bump in my hand settling perfectly and completely against her.

I slipped my hand from hers, sliding down her stomach, touching the skin that was under the covers and yet not under her shirt any more. It was impossibly smooth and I felt the dip of her belly button. I couldn't help but trace around it with my finger, being careful not to be too light to tickle her. I rubbed my palm slowly across her smooth skin, unconsciously going lower until I could feel the line of her panties under my hand.

I couldn't remember ever enjoying a girl like this before – just sliding my hand over her skin felt so fulfilling at this moment. The sleepy exploration was almost innocent, and she was so relaxed while she slept. I was so grateful for the complete lack of awkwardness. I'd never do anything indecent to her. I wasn't like that, but I slid my hands over her, almost like a massage, and she remained asleep.

Until it was obvious she wasn't asleep any more.

Her breathing had changed – it was quieter now, although no quicker – and her hand lifted, covering mine as I continued to travel over her body quietly. Her palm slid down the top of my hand, to my forearm, up to my bicep, and then skipped over and onto my chest. She molded her hand to my body, sliding it over my skin, quietly, slowly, over my chest, fingering my collarbones, down the line between, slowly traveling toward my navel.

Then she did as I had – slowly circled my navel with the tip of her finger – before laying her warm palm against my stomach. She slid her hand over and covered the ridge of my hip, dipping into the little hollow there before coming back to the middle where she pressed her hand against me, moving it again to my chest, and then sliding down to the elastic of my underwear.

Again she slid her hand up to my chest, and then she rolled toward me so that she was wrapped around me, only this time, her leg was thrown over my hip. I hazarded a look at her; her peaceful face was inches from mine, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. I closed my eyes again, and her hand traveled to my jaw, now exploring the lines of my face and my neck. Quietly, softly without a word or an acknowledgement, we were learning each other.

As she had turned toward me, I faced her, and I let my hand travel over her hip to meet her back. She had a small tight body, and yet her skin felt like the most amazingly soft silk.

She touched my mouth. Her fingers caressed every little angle, the little cleft in my chin, the corners of my mouth, the little indentation between my nose and upper lip.

While I was reeling from the extraordinarily gentle caress, I felt her reaching a bit, and then she pushed my head forward, and her mouth brushed across mine. Her lips were still parted and soft with sleep but she didn't actually kiss me. She just touched my lips with hers, rubbing them slowly from left to right for a second before she moved on. She pushed herself up and quietly caressed my face with her lips and her nose, her fingertips resting ever so lightly on my jaw.

I was speechless and nearly breathless. I was astonished at this exploration and had absolutely no experience to compare it to. Her fingers traced my ears, touching my lobes and following the slight path of skin behind. She opened up her hand and let her fingers wind into my hair while her palm slid down my neck, urging me closer again.

I felt powerless. I wanted so much to ravish her, and yet I burned to see what she would do next so I did nothing. My own hands simply rubbed her smooth skin, reveling in her closeness.

I could feel her breath on my lips again, and then, as I was thinking about kissing her, I felt her tongue delicately touch and explore my mouth. Again, she wasn't kissing, but tasting and discovering. I was still, my hands no longer moving, my breathing slowed, and every ounce of concentration was centered on how her intimately moving tongue felt as it danced in and around my mouth. I experimentally extended my own tongue toward her, restraining myself from engulfing her mouth with mine, and timidly, her lips sucked and tasted me for just a moment before taking my lower lip into her mouth and doing the same.

I didn't want to disrupt this tender play, but I was seriously restraining myself with the feel of her mouth and tongue. I had just about decided to plunge my mouth against hers when her hand slipped around to cup my butt while she simultaneously wiggled closer.

I was wedged right between her thighs now, snug against the warmest part of her body and after a second, I felt the tiniest swivel of her hips against me.

Who was this girl? What game was she playing now? Did she want me or was this her experience only? I dared not talk. I didn't want to question anything lest I screw it all up, so I imitated her, hesitantly, slowly, with the tiniest bit of pressure. I cupped her bottom in my hand and pressed myself against her. Her lips pressed closer for the briefest of moments and then her hand, on my stomach again, slipped inside my underwear, avoiding my aching hardness in favor of my thigh, my hip bone, and then gloriously, my sack.

She cupped me in her hand, rolling my balls around in her delicately probing fingers, and then softly encircled my cock with her fingers. She rubbed her hand up and down gently and slowly, and still, above all else, silently.

And still no kisses.

Again, I imitated. I slipped my hand into her panties, consciously diverting my attention from her sex to touch her thigh, to slide over her hip and then finally to settle on her delicate softness. My fingers curled the slightest bit and her lips opened, revealing a scorching wetness that helped my fingertips to slide against her.

And now, finally, she kissed me.

Her mouth closed over mine softly, as if we were not consummating this achingly slow exploration, as if we weren't straining against the shackles of self-restraint. As if she weren't a burning pyre of moisture, ready and waiting. Her mouth was warm and perfect and thorough in her kiss – moist lips and slick tongue sliding and seducing my mouth into submission.

As she drove me quietly insane with the most erotic kisses of my life, her hand squeezed my erection, and she delightfully stroked below making my toes curl and my hips flex in preparation. I wanted her so badly I felt like I was going to explode.

Again, I followed. I stroked her softly, slowly, letting my finger dip into her and then back out, massaging around her soft folds, gliding over her clitoris and then easing back again to rub over every millimeter of her hot tender skin.

Her hands pushed at my shorts until she caught the waistband in her toes and she artfully slid them down my legs as I lifted up my hips. She ran both feet up and down my legs, rubbing me just as softly and perfectly as she had with her hands. Was there a part of this girl that didn't fit perfectly against me?

Raising my hand just slightly, I pushed at her underwear, slipping them over her hips, sliding down over the curve of her backside, excited at the way her hips arched off the bed to let the fabric slip away. She pushed them off of her feet and then put one hand on my chest to push me away. I regretted losing the contact, but was gratified to see her removing her top and pushing the covers aside.

Her eyes met mine and still in silence, she opened her arms to me, urging me to settle into her. This time, I was welcomed by both of her feet sliding up the backs of my legs, opening her body to make room for mine. I didn't think. I couldn't speak. Her hands slid from my shoulders to my ribs, then down over the small of my back, and then finally, her fingers curved around my bottom to pull me to where she wanted me.

My penis slipped against her and it felt incredible. She was so wet that I slid between her slick folds and enjoyed the wet warmth before sliding my hand down her body to position myself. When I had just felt the give of her body, her feet pushed and her hips rose and I was enveloped by her.

I took her face in my hands and looked into her eyes. I heard the smallest of moans and then immediately questioned myself as to whether I'd actually heard something. I was suffused in sensation and utterly surrounded with her body. Our chests were flattened against each other and she was pushing her hips up against me.

I stroked her face and lowered my lips to hers where we started to indulge in those succulent kisses again. I withdrew slightly and slid back and I felt her body move.

Again, I pulled back, a little more this time, and her fingers tightened and pulled me back to her. Her palms flattened against me and I could feel her hips moving to pull back when I pulled back and then they curved up to meet me when I slid back into her. We continued this way, quietly, slowly and deliberately, our bodies sliding deliciously against each other, and then her hands pressed me harder.

I felt a little thrill pass through me at her more aggressive move, and I moved a little quicker with my hips. Her fingers clenched against me and she forced her hips up toward me. I heard another small whimper from her, and her lips became more urgent on mine. At the same time, I could feel her spread her legs wider, curving her hips up more toward mine, until I felt like I was that much deeper inside of her.

She was beautiful – her eyes dark, her hair a wild flame behind her, her hands demandingly and urgently asking for more from me.

So I gave what I had.

My lips caressed her, occasionally burrowing my face down between her shoulder and head to suck on her skin when I couldn't breathe. When she pushed against me, I circled my hips against hers. Our bodies were tightly pressed together, moving relentlessly toward release, and then she hissed in my ear, "Don't stop."

I couldn't. I wouldn't.

Her hips pressed upward toward me and I could feel her hands desperately pulling me to her now. I moved against her, into her and away from her, my body feeling the same tension I felt in her hands. Her lips were occasionally touching mine, her tongue teasing me with its little darts and licks, and then I groaned, mostly quiet, but small deep sounds escaped my throat as I pushed deeper into her, desperately crushing my pelvis against hers.

She was absolutely still, but her voice fought to come out. I heard only a deep guttural moan through her closed lips, and then she kissed me in a frenzy, her sounds no longer contained, her body lashing against me, mine returning her pull as we thrashed against each other in our satisfaction.

"Yes," she sighed, eyes closed, lashes lying softly against her cheeks.

I kissed her lingeringly, with profound gratitude and tenderness, and she kissed back as our bodies relaxed. We surrounded each other utterly and in the still silence of the dawn, I moved beside her and cradled her close as we slept again.


	4. Chapter 4: Guardian

**Penname**: AuburnOne  
><strong>Original or Derivative (fanfiction)<strong>: DERIVATIVE  
><strong>RatingWarning(s)/Note(s)**: M - **WARNING** **WARNING** **WARNING  
><strong>- Character Death (poetic and pretty but still, it's Bella people)  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: Triangles  
><strong>AN:** This was a Wit Fit on September 7th, 2010. I liked it because Edward was Bella's savior but in a "Little Match Girl" kind of way. No beta, although I did go through and try to clean it up a bit.

* * *

><p>She prayed. I heard her again in the dark, beseeching the Lord to have pity upon her. I crept over to her small safe place and exhaled near her. She would at least enjoy and find comfort in my scent when I invaded her haven.<p>

"Hello my lovely," I purred in her ear. "Let me just rid you of that awful scrap of yarn."

I took my time unwinding the endless scarf from around her neck. She was pliant, gazing at me with rapt attention, not even trying to prevent me from loosening the clothes that kept her from me. She should have been cold, the triangles of her tiny fire having long-since extinguished.

She was absolutely filthy; nothing but a small street urchin around the age of seventeen. She was a defenseless and homeless piece of societal castoff who begged for deliverance on a nightly basis. She knelt and prayed in little corners of the dark and pungent forgotten walkways, begging for death, for peace, and for the sweetness of a silent heart.

She didn't know that it wasn't God who listened.

Tonight I would be her deliverance. I would give her pleasure and pain and then she would have the serenity she so fervently desired. There was no one to dissuade me, and no one who would miss her presence at dinner time, bed time or even at breakfast. She was a forgotten bit of humanity begging for a small ounce of mercy, as she was deprived of even the smallest happiness.

Some might've characterized me as her wish come true.

I held her closely, gingerly, but I needn't have done. She was an absolute dream to handle: there was no screaming, no kicking, and no fear of my cold touch or my red eyes. She simply adored and let me mold her to me as I rent the clothing that was useless to her now.

"Bella," I murmured softly. "Do you wish to die?"

"I no longer wish to live. Isn't it the same?" she asked.

"Only you can say," I answered.

"I no longer wish to live. Are you in a position to accommodate that desire?" she asked. I was somewhat surprised at her eloquence.

"Yes," I said. "I was made for such a wish."

"Then fulfill your purpose. I no longer want this world any more than it wants me," she said. Finally her eyes left mine and regarded the ground while a tear slipped down her cheek.

"So young to have such despair," I observed. "How can you know that it is death you seek?"

"And you are so young to be willing to deliver such a thing," she said. "Such a serious occupation for someone so beautiful."

I would have warmed if I were able at her compliment. As it was I could only run a fingertip along her jaw, caressing her fragility softly and lovingly.

"Beauty is completely subjective," I answered. "It is you who are beautiful in every possible way."

"I thank you for saying it but forgive me if I do not agree," she murmured, looking at her dirty hands. "These hands hold filth that is much worse that what is visible on the surface."

"How so little one?" I asked. "Your virtue is spotless, I can tell. You haven't an ounce of maliciousness in your body. What could such tiny hands do to warrant such a label?

"If you promise to erase me from this world, I will tell you how these hands were sullied," she said.

"I _do_ promise you. You may wish I hadn't but I promise you now," I swore.

"I killed a man who wished to take my body from me," she confessed. "I used to be a girl of some carriage and lived in a reasonably fine house with my parents. After he killed them - stole them from me - he attempted to claim me. I was furious and couldn't bring myself to allow it. I found a letter opener in my struggles and stabbed the man in the neck. He died while bleeding all over me in the parlor of my parents' home. I was finally able, after a struggle, to escape his rot and find my parents. I arranged them in death and sat there for I don't know how long. Someone came to call and upon seeing my soiled clothes, accused me of killing the lot. I escaped to the streets to live out my days so that no one would know my shame."

She openly wept now, clinging to my coat lapels and laying her cheek against my chest in her despair. She cried for so many things; much more than she'd disclosed. It was obvious that nothing was simple in her life and nothing would be simple again. Even if I saved her and carried her to Carlisle, she would be forever plagued with her self-imposed guilt and the new guilt that came from her association with me and my kind.

Already I knew I could not hurt her further. I would deliver her from the pain of her short life. It was this grace that was within my power.

I held her tenderly, kissing her temple, trying to impart some bit of comfort after her painful disclosure.

"Bella, be peaceful knowing that I will take care of you. I will end this pain and you will be delivered to your heavenly rest. Such a burdened soul is a delight to God. You should not have to endure another moment," I soothed.

She rested then, sank into my embrace with a relieved exhalation. I did everything in my power to cloud her perception: I exhaled more forcefully to saturate her in my scent and sang quietly a lullaby that she'd sung to herself so many nights in the past. I stroked her hair, touched her skin, embraced her like a lover, and then when she slipped into unconsciousness, I ended her as swiftly as possible. She didn't even stir.

Her frail form remained warm in my arms while I sought a proper resting place. In the local cemetery were her parents and after a hasty excavation, I reverently laid her there. I thought for a moment and wished that God would hear a small prayer from me. I asked forgiveness and begged for Bella's salvation.

I covered her with the respect and dignity she was due and took my leave. When it was possible, I would sometimes return, laying a small flower on her grave, whispering words of peace.


	5. Chapter 5: With This Ring

Penname: MadamThang  
>Original or Derivative (fanfiction): Derivative<br>Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s): M  
>Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.<br>Prompt: "With this ring, I thee wed."  
>AN: I just read through this one and thought it was funny/cute. Hope you like it too. This was a Wit Fit on my birthday 4-29-11

* * *

><p>I was shaking and felt slightly nauseous as once again the tight corset pinched. I wasn't able to breathe properly and my palpitational anxiety didn't help.<p>

I was literally swooning in front of my groom. As he reached his fingers toward mine, the heavily encrusted ring glinted in the streaming rays of sunshine.

"With this ring, I thee wed," he pronounced proudly.

His sweaty hand surrounded my clammy one and the blackness finally closed in. I crumpled to the floor and lay there, finally calm, finally cool.

I heard my father shove James aside and I knew he was carrying me to the back of the church. I tried to open my eyes but they wouldn't budge. I tried to talk, but that was also a weighty effort that was beyond my capabilities.

In the end, I lay there quietly, shallowly breathing and tingling all over.

His voice was quiet and still, like a cool breeze, and he was gentle, completely unlike James. His cool fingers pressed against my forehead and the masculine scent of his shampoo made me smile.

His lips touched my forehead then - not exactly in a kiss, but reminiscent of my mother's method of checking for fever.

"Has she fainted before?" said the pretty man-voice.

"Yup." Good old Charlie: no bullshit to be found. "No medical reasons we know of."

"You might announce that the service will be delayed," said the man.

"No." My voice came out strong for that word. "No wedding."

I kept my eyes closed and relaxed on the remaining bits of my lingering unconsciousness. It was easier to say the words if I kept my eyes closed. The reactions didn't really matter in the end. The marriage was what mattered.

"Then you definitely need to make an announcement," said the man.

"Fuck that," said James, and I heard him as he crassly re-entered the church and spat out the loud and ugly news that the wedding was off. I heard him cackle as he slammed his way out the doors and only then I opened my eyes.

Charlie was softly smiling down at me. "Was this news to you?"

"No Daddy. I just picked this lovely moment to share." I smiled back and after recovering a few more minutes, we went home.

+•+•+•+•+•+

It was about six months later when I went in for my very first gynecology exam. I was all ready, sitting on the table in my paper gown, when a super handsome doctor walked in.

"Miss...Swan?" he asked, looking up from the chart. His clear green eyes met mine and I was instantly transported back to my foiled wedding day.

"Yes - you seem familiar," I hedged, hoping to delay the fact that he was in the room specifically to look at my girlie parts.

"I didn't think you saw me that day," he said quietly. "You were rather...indisposed, if I remember correctly."

"I recognized your voice," I said more to myself.

"Yes, well, what is the reason for your visit today?" He looked down at my chart and then back at me expectantly.

"Well I've never, um, seen a gynecologist before and my mother thought I should."

"Are you sexually active?" he asked.

"Not exactly. I mean, I've never...well...I'm a virgin," I choked out.

"Are you worried about something? Because normally I would advise waiting until you're ready for sexual activity or around age 18."

"I'd have to say I meet both those criteria," I answered.

"And are you currently in a relationship?" He frowned down at my chart and scribbled notes.

"Um, no," I replied.

He looked at me and I was puzzled by his face. He looked relieved or maybe happy? One thing was for certain - he looked too good to see my goodies.

"If you're sure you want to do this, we'll go ahead, but I really don't think it's necessary."

It was my turn to look relieved. "Okay! Outstanding! Let's just call the whole thing off! I'm sorry to have wasted your time..."

I started getting off the table and he backed toward the door. "I'll just let the receptionist know that you're going to call back and reschedule."

He whipped around and was gone and I sighed in relief as I pulled my clothes on. As I was walking toward the desk, the nurse came up.

"Dr. Cullen would like to see you before you go Miss Swan."

She pointed me to an open door, and there he sat, scribbling away on someone's chart.

"Oh! Hey!" he stammered when he saw me. "I really just wanted to go over a couple things before you head out."

"Okay," I said, sitting across from him.

He reiterated when I should be seen and then shocked the heck put of me by saying he thought perhaps I should see one of the other doctors in the practice.

"Conflict of interest, you know..."

"What conflict?" I asked.

"Well, I wanted to ask you out and you can't be my patient if you say yes." He peeked up at me and his cheeks were pink and adorable. He looked so hopeful and I was completely speechless with surprise.

"Of course, if you say no then I could do your exam but it might be a little weird..."

"Yes," I said.

"Yes it'd be weird?"

"No - yes to the going out."

He smiled bashfully then and grabbed a pen and paper to write down my name and number.

"Dr. Cullen?"

"Yes?"

"What's your first name?"

"It's Edward. Nice to meet you, Bella."

With that, we clasped hands and things began.


	6. Chapter 6: Dawn

**Penname**: MadamThang  
><strong>Original or Derivative (fanfiction)<strong>: DERIVATIVE  
><strong>RatingWarning(s)/Note(s)**: M - off storyline today - catharsis  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: Dawn  
><strong>AN:** I wrote this to try and pull in some of the complexities of marriage.

* * *

><p>When the sun sent gauzy rays through the dark of the room, I watched the shadows of his face change. As the night faded to gray, he looked almost dead; at rest in the shroud of the in-between, the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jawline almost made him look anorexic. I tried to find something to shake off the macabre images and kept searching his visage.<p>

When white-bright sunlight came through in bars, he looked like an archangel, magnificent and powerfully masculine. He reminded me of Zeus in repose, ripe for seducing or treason - my choice. His body was curved and plump in all the right muscular places and hard and angular elsewhere.

When the shadows were gone and the room was uniformly lit, he was a child. His lips were pouted and slightly parted, and his hands were curled into loose fists beside his cheek. His dark eyelashes were the perfect accessory in his façade of youth and his sweetly innocent face was unconsciously beautiful.

It would be hard to remember these moments later when dawn was a misty memory and we were arguing about money or how to discipline the kids.

It would be so easy to forget how his looks compelled me to study and focus on the smallest of details, how his skin begged for the touch of my hand. Instead, I'd likely be critical of how he washed the dishes or didn't pick up his socks. I might even get a little resentful when he sat down to watch television and fell asleep on the couch.

After the kids were asleep though, I'd go to our room and it would be his turn to watch. Inevitably I'd be drawn into his smirk, his playful looks, and ultimately, his hands.

He would squeeze me and accentuate our soft desires until our shared kisses got frenzied, and then he'd enter me, lying against me, letting me feel the sensually satisfying weight of him. He'd move only a little at first, coaxing me with kisses on my neck and tongue-touching nibbles on my lips as we spoke.

I would feel it: that little achy burning itch that would turn into a humming tickle. I'd feel it getting better and worse at the same time as he moved inside of me, adding sensation upon sensation with warm kisses, gentle squeezes and secret touches in places we didn't say out loud.

That feeling would grow until it carved out a hollow clenching ache in my abdomen. He would feel bigger and deeper with each movement and pleasure would build and engulf us. He'd rub the parts of me that begged and he'd touch the parts that would heighten my desperation for him.

He'd whisper naughty conspiratorial things that were only said in our private darkness, and he'd get demanding: pushing hard, holding me tight, dominating and thrashing against me. I'd marvel at how every thought left except those of him: his thrusting hips, his twisting tongue, his agile fingers, his body: the feel of him would eclipse all else.

I'd be drawn into the vortex of our joined bodies until I fell gratefully into the swirling panoramic rainbow of sensation. I'd come to on the other side, limp from the struggle but buoyed by the outcome of our journey.

I'd ponder all night sometimes about us - our relationship - and occasionally, I would be surprised as the sun sent gauzy rays through the dark of the room.


	7. Chapter 7: Communion

**COMMUNION**

_**Twilight, OOC, AU, Edward x Bella**_

_**As always, Stephenie Meyer owns it all. I own a candy cane pen and some seriously lame living room furniture.**_

He was beautiful, powerful and undead. Add the accessory that he hated himself for all of it and there you had the completely paradoxical package. Everything he was, everything he felt was simply a by-product of his particular manifestation of existence. All of the powerful, enviable qualities he showcased were neither original nor genuinely wrought from within. He was a force and not much more. He knew himself well yet that was simply a consequence of observation. Any fool who walked the earth long enough could discern patterns in behavior and everything else. He was nothing more than an inhabitant, a place keeper, a bookmark, not even a worthy footnote to history. _Utterly forgettable_ he told himself.

Bella Swan vehemently disagreed. He knew she did even though she wouldn't admit it out loud. Alice had seen it and had no qualms about sharing.

Bella craved him on a significantly different level than Edward craved her. He hungered for her in a physical sense. She hungered for his intelligence, thoughtfulness, worldliness, talent, deliberation and discipline. Much to her dismay, the latter quality was the bane of her existence. His life of observation had honed his self-denial and discipline down to an impenetrable fortress.

She would never know and he would never tell that he was equally taken with her, completely consumed with her, and in a word, obsessed. He watched her sleep, watched her future in Alice's mind, and watched her daily life unfold through the minds of others. He cerebro-stalked her, using any means available to dog her footsteps, to hang on her every breath or every word, to trace her every movement and to observe and uncover her unspoken desires.

She made it blatantly obvious that she was utterly ready to give him everything. She offered it unconsciously, oblivious to her own self-destruction by leaning too closely, speaking too closely, looking too closely. He held her at a steel arm's length, denying and resisting the energy that hummed between them. In Alice's visions and in her interactions with others, Bella's decision was sure. She knew what she wanted and it was the intoxicating man-boy that filled her dreams.

She would find a way. He continued to refuse but visions showed that she would penetrate to his very core, no matter the consequence, no matter the trade-off.

Alice was no help whatsoever to Edward. She saw the future and embraced it, having every confidence that Edward's raging thirst and dark desire could be tamed. Alice was ready to have a new friend and she was completely willing and able to embrace the warm yielding flesh of Bella Swan. She was Bella's most reliable or unreliable advocate, depending on one's viewpoint.

Alice's desires and thoughts were of no consequence however. Edward knew better. He knew he would ultimately fail, and so he was ironclad in his resolve. He only allowed himself to be near Bella during situations of his own design. He would not be swayed or manipulated by circumstances as others plotted them. To stay ahead of the game, he could justify the stalking, the watching and the mind-reading. He told himself he did this because he needed to reasonably anticipate situations where he'd have to withdraw, should that become necessary.

He was dead wrong and too pigheaded to see it. He thought that any obstacle could be overcome by the sheer power of will and supernatural talent, but he could not read Bella's mind, and Alice was not always near for his use, two yawning flaws in his logic.

Bella had her own ideas, of course. She had decided almost as soon as she met him that he would be hers and she was determined on this point. Because of this unwavering and staunch determination that things would go her way, Alice was able to envision the future fruits of Bella's labors, and she shamelessly flaunted them in Edward's mind every chance she got. It was a rare thing to be able to one-up a mind-reader and sometimes Alice felt remorseful for being so manipulative, but she was sure that the greater good would be served by an Edward/Bella union. She also selfishly wanted a friend of her own and was looking forward to the visions she'd seen.

Edward was utterly tortured with the fleeting glimpses of Bella's slight frame encircled in his arms. He saw Alice's visions of himself nuzzling her neck, touching her cheek with his cold lips, rubbing his nose over her tender flesh. He squirmed internally when these thoughts were pushed into his mind or when he sought them out in such pedestrian places as the lunch room, while playing piano, or when he couldn't resist the temptation to sit in the rocking chair in Bella's room while she slept. He was both annoyed and ravenous each time because venom would become his quiet and secret friend, an unseen accessory to all of his Bella-wishes.

The consistent problem Edward encountered, which was completely and utterly foreign to him as well, was that he couldn't definitively see _any_ of Bella's intentions. Certainly he knew what she intended as far as ultimately engaging him in a relationship, but he had no idea how or when she would incrementally try to move him in that direction, despite all of the compromising positions that Alice ruthlessly showed him.

There were ways to find out, but he hated asking for help. He didn't want to appear weak and needy to Alice by asking her on a daily basis what Bella's next steps were. He hated the idea of exploiting Bella for any reason, and he certainly hated using any supernatural ability to do it.

The most shamefully unmanageable piece of the entire charade was that despite his resolve to be disciplined, Edward was imperfect. He was still human somewhere within, and he was still tempted – _sorely tempted_ – to let hope and self-doubt creep in around the edges. He found himself on a rare occasion believing that Bella might be attainable without the specter of death lurking nearby. He struggled alone daily, talking himself into and out of relationships with Bella.

_Friendship_? No.

_Lovers_? Absolutely not.

_Biology partner_? Required for school, but again, only limited to the classroom.

A biology project had been assigned. The required work was to take place _outside_ of the classroom with the assigned biology partner. Edward almost reflexively gulped down his fear in class and outwardly remained impassive and polite to Bella. She, on the other hand, immediately made the suggestion of working on the project at _her_ house.

Edward already knew that Charlie, Bella's father, was rarely home between work and his favorite past time of fishing. He also knew that Charlie trusted Bella implicitly and that he had no qualms about giving her plenty of autonomy. Alice had already shown him that Bella was going to meet the Cullen family, so Edward used that knowledge to invite Bella to his home under the guise of having the opportunity to meet everyone while doing the project. In this way, he knew she would feel like she was making inroads. Edward could at least console himself that there would be a crowd around.

It was simple enough to meet at the Cullen's house. Bella drove herself there after school and as usual, Edward drove all of his siblings. There wasn't room for Bella in the Volvo which solved the puzzle of how she would get home after the work was done.

Prior to being ensconced in the kitchen, Bella was introduced to the Cullen children, each in turn, and with the arrival of Carlisle after work, she met both him and Esme. Alice was entirely too enthusiastic and took up residence at the kitchen table to do her homework with Bella and Edward. At first he was grateful but as the evening wore on, he realized that Bella and Alice were developing too much common ground. Bella was solidifying her place as Alice's friend and Edward didn't like it one bit. Alice was positively gleeful that things were progressing.

First they talked about school. Then they talked about clothes and shoes. Then they decided that Alice needed to spend time with Bella doing her hair and taking her shopping since Bella was new to the area. Finally they discussed having a sleepover. Edward winced internally and kept working diligently on the project since his goal was to finish it in one sitting. The sleepover details were finalized and Alice was malicious enough to gift Edward with the vision of Bella in his room, on his bed and in his arms.

He immediately got up and stalked out of the kitchen under the guise of _using the facilities_. He was furious at Alice for engineering this heretofore unseen bump in the road. Once he closed the bathroom door he leaned against the sink and tried to figure out a way to avoid the entire scenario. He couldn't very well tell Alice what to do or which friends to have but he could make himself scarce when Bella was over. All he needed to know was when the alleged sleepover would take place – an easy pluck of information from Alice's mind. He sighed in relief and decided that plan B would entail a hunting trip far away from home, to be implemented if he let himself get too close to the girls.

The remainder of the biology project was uneventful, the only distraction being Edward's vigilant observation of Alice's visions. There were more images than ever before of Edward together with Bella. He was simultaneously petrified and entranced with what he was seeing. It thankfully didn't escape his notice that in each and every scenario Bella was just as beautiful and whole and alive as she was at this very moment in front of him.

He refused to acknowledge that the burning in his gut was hope, getting stronger every millisecond. It was a ridiculous thing, hope.

They both scored an 'A' on the biology project. Bella had raised her hand for a 'high five' when their grade came back but Edward feigned a look of ignorance. Bella shook her head, laughing at him. Before he could react, before he _wanted_ to react, she grabbed his hand and pressed it against her own, making Edward feel completely unhinged and dizzy as he swirled in the physical sensation of her nearness.

He could feel his carefully honed discipline slip for a second and he stilled to granite. The room faded away as his hand touched hers. He was only capable of analyzing and dissecting the feeling of her velvet skin against his, the sudden peak of her scent as her blood moved faster with her pounding heart. He was losing grip. He needed to pull away. He needed to leave her side immediately.

Instead he languidly slid himself back from the reverie to see that she was looking at him in wonder. Or perhaps fear? His cold skin was still pressed against her peachy warmth and she _had _to be noticing the difference between them. _He_ was completely suffocating in the difference between them.

He pulled his hand back slowly, trying to preserve each miniscule sensation in his brain, and ultimately turned himself away from her, pretending to pay attention in class. It was obvious that Bella was _not_ doing the same. She remained exactly as before, her body turned toward him, her gaze steady and unwavering. She looked as if she were reading him, plotting her next move.

He would've squirmed with the tension had he not been a master in the art of stillness.

Alice was bouncing happily on her toes as she relayed to Esme the details of the planned sleepover with Bella. Naturally Alice had invited Bella over to their house rather than going to the Swan home and Esme was completely supportive. Edward was livid but Alice promised that they were doing _girl stuff_ and wouldn't be in his vicinity.

Despite Alice's promises Edward continued to see the traitorous visions of Bella interacting with him during the coming sleepover. He was particularly nervous about one image in which he and Bella were alone in the kitchen, dangerously close to one another.

He tried to persuade himself otherwise, but the awakenings of lust were undeniable. While his mind usually acted as a bit of clay, forced to bend to his will, his body was still a defiant 17-year old which, on a rare occasion, reacted to stimuli before he could exert control. Alice's vision showed that Bella would apparently trap him in the kitchen, press her body against his and force him into the little corner of the countertop. He was both dreading and literally drooling over the moment; literally in that venom entered his mouth as soon as he saw the image and he could almost smell her blood.

He was involuntarily excited in multiple ways – curious about so many types of promises in the vision – but the most intensely burning question had him wondering how he would even get trapped by Bella. What would come after she ensnared him? Should he make it a point to avoid the kitchen? The more he thought about it the less he wanted to admit that he didn't _want_ to avoid the situation. He wanted his questions answered.

Conveniently, he forgot Plan B and the promise to take himself hunting. He forgot that he was avoiding Bella at all costs. He forgot that his body and mind were at war.

*!*!*!*!*

As the evening wore on, Edward began circling his room like a caged animal. He fought as to whether he should go to the kitchen and invite the images in Alice's mind or he should simply remain in his room. He could still see the images, so precisely, so enticingly, that it seemed that no matter what decision he made he would end up in Bella's clutches, and more importantly, that she would come to no harm because of it.

When his frustration reached its peak and after he heard Alice and Bella giggling and whispering for long enough, he left his room. He stalked to the music room, sat down at the keyboard and plugged in his headphones. He began to play, and it mercifully blocked out the noise of Alice and Bella's conversation. Bella hadn't yet persuaded Alice to reveal Edward's secrets and for that he was grateful. He also hadn't heard Alice coaching Bella on how to weasel her way into Edward's room or his arms or his embrace.

He knew that Alice could be devious when it came to getting what she wanted.

He pounded out scales and arpeggios and etudes galore, and then he ran through his memorized repertoire and personal compositions. Once finished he tapped his foot rapidly, trying to plot his next distraction. He couldn't concentrate enough to compose anything more and he couldn't stop playing or he'd hear the girls. Eventually he started recycling through his playlist.

His playing had been frenzied and uncontrolled, so rapid that human ears wouldn't have recognized a single melody. Without the satisfaction of doing things correctly, methodically, accurately, he grew further frustrated and even outright angry. He stood and decided to get it over with. He searched for Alice's thoughts in the house, and she had apparently gone off to Jasper's room after Bella fell asleep. Edward groaned aloud as he lamented his inability to hear Bella's thoughts.

He walked deliberately toward the kitchen and froze when he saw her standing quietly, drinking a glass of water. She wore an ethereally delicate white gown that had a row of pearl buttons down the front and a tiny line of lace around all of the edges. Her hair was loose, spread around her bare shoulders, and she looked soft and pink like she'd been sleeping up until a few minutes before. Her smell permeated everything in his wake and he was just about to turn and sprint silently back up to his room when she looked.

She didn't move at all, just continued in her silence, locking eyes with him. She resembled one of his own in her stillness and in that moment he could completely envision turning her. He could imagine finding her in the night, not being afraid to touch her, not being afraid to rush to her and pin her with his body against any available surface.

So instead of running, he stared back. He wouldn't even consider moving away now – it was a bit too late to try and go that route – but he didn't want to say anything either. It was so quiet in that moment that he knew his voice would fracture the atmosphere.

She took the initiative and nodded him over, and as much as the warring between mind and body continued, he went to her. Earlier he had wondered how they were going to get themselves into that compromising position he'd seen. He now found himself longing for it.

*%*%*%*%*

He took up his expected pose, leaning against the counter, laughing inside for making it happen, and eventually spoke quietly to her. She remained in her position, blushing, bashful, yet showing a level of confidence he'd not seen before.

He wanted to get _closer_. For the first time, he found himself leaning toward _her_, breathing in the air around her for her scent while simultaneously screeching at himself in disgust and dismay for it. She, gradually in increments, moved to the counter opposite him so that they were in the same space, but had yet to show any indication of the desire to touch him. They chatted comfortably for the most part until one or both of them would remember that they were standing in the kitchen in their nighttime clothes and then they would share a moment or two of self-aware awkwardness.

Edward thought of Adam and Eve, eating from the tree of knowledge, finally realizing their nakedness.

The moment of truth came when she leaned forward to put her glass in the sink to Edward's right. As she pulled back, her right hand grazed his left forearm and his hand seemed to jump up and grab of its own accord, encircling her wrist, pulling her nearer.

Edward was in unfamiliar territory and Bella wasn't arguing. She looked at him questioningly, wondering why he'd closed his hand around her arm, and then she covered her chest with her other arm because the chill of his hand and the subsequent shiver in her body made her breasts react in the most obvious way possible.

Naturally he looked at her body and admonished himself immediately, knowing he should rip his eyes away from the miracle of humanity in front of him, but he couldn't. He was lost now: in her reactions, her frailty, her eyes, her breath, her smell. Being lost in her felt like being found.

_Oh. My. God! Now What? What am I going to do? He's here, I'm here, and he's touching me and all I want to do is get closer. I want to run my fingers over his jaw, his lips – wrap him in my arms and smell him – but he'll think that's weird right? He'll think I'm easy or something worse, right?_

_What if he went all Rhett Butler on me and carried me up the stairs to his room? _

_(sigh)_

_If only._

_I wish he'd just do what I'm thinking and kiss me, Kiss Me, KISS ME!_

_I wish he'd do what I dreamed about the other night and unbutton this very nightgown and drag his fingertip from my lips to my neck to my collarbone to my chest._

_Mm... Please? Just do it already!_

She was looking at him intently – so intently that he felt like _she_ could read _his_ mind. Edward felt trapped like a deer in headlights and he was paralyzed for a moment with indecision. He wanted to taste her skin for the pure erotic pleasure of it while simultaneously wanting to taste her skin to explore the darker delight beneath it.

He seriously doubted he could do either without hurting her but somehow he persuaded himself to try the former.

Almost imperceptibly, his fingers stroked over her arm, a tiny careful caress similar to that which one would give a baby chick. Gently, gently, gently he ran his finger over her, watching as goosebumps transformed the smooth veneer of her skin.

He could hear her blood rushing more quickly, her heart slamming in her chest.

He could hear her breathing take on a ragged undertone.

He could feel the slight tremble of her body reverberating through her arm.

He wasn't _completely _tempted to do the darker thing yet – the thing he loathed most about himself. So far, his humanity was winning this race.

He still simply wanted to experience her, touch her, smell her and let his senses meander over her. He was still enjoying the delay in his gratification.

He held out his other hand in invitation and she didn't notice at first. He reached for her and then her awareness shifted from his face and she offered herself to him.

He took her other hand in his and drew her closer. They were inches apart, observing each other, and the tension was choking her. He could hear her swallow as she tried to calm herself and he could feel his own body tensing for an entirely different reason.

Venom was seeping into his mouth.

She stepped closer, close enough that the hem of her nightgown touched his shins. She let go of his hand and he felt her small fingertips stroke his chin of all things. His chin – so very close to his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. A mere flick and he could taste her.

He was breaking. He could feel that he was releasing little bits of his resolve and when she touched his chin, a giant chunk of it floated away. As he realized the loss, his head fell back and he sighed in resignation and frustration at his lack of control.

She saw his movement as a sigh of surrender because her fingers immediately began to trace down over his neck, his Adam's apple, finally flitting over the collar bones visible at the top of his v-neck tee.

She was so careful, so tentative, and rightly so. She had no clue with whom she was dealing.

*(*)*(*)*

_I'm touching him! I'm actually touching his body and I'm never going to stop._

_This is unreal. This is exquisite and we haven't even kissed yet!_

_I feel dizzy. I mean, my head is spinning and I really can't believe this is happening. _

_Closer. Please? Can you come closer?_

_He's so gentle. He's so sweet._

_I so wish he'd come closer though. I wonder if he'll kiss me._

*(*)*(*)*

They were so very quiet and careful. It was such a lie. He was barely controlled. He was rapidly chewing through the leather of his self-imposed restraints while simultaneously trying to master the utter turmoil he felt over what he was doing. How could this end well? _Her_ body was spiraling out of control – he could hear it and sense it and smell it.

He knew he was damned regardless, but he didn't want to damn Bella along with him. He couldn't risk damaging her. He couldn't risk the remorse, shame and guilt that would crush him if he did anything as remotely stupid as getting romantically involved with Bella. He couldn't even contemplate the thought of ending her.

When he looked back into her eyes he let his face harden into self-denial. She squinted back, noticing the change in his demeanor, and without being able to read her thoughts, he couldn't predict that she'd wrap her hand around his neck and try to drag his face down to hers.

He was physically strong enough to resist the pull of her frail human hands but emotionally he was giving in. He wanted everything. He wanted her for himself. He wanted to be selfish _just this once_. He wanted to take what he desired, what he craved. Didn't he deserve love, affection, companionship?

He chuckled derisively to himself for even thinking it. _Romance._ How very inconsequential compared to the issues at stake in this moment.

The internal battle he was waging caused him to sigh again in defeat.

As he squeezed his eyes closed in self-loathing, he was overpowered with her scent. It swirled around him and forced its way into every nook and cranny of his perception. He was in a cloud of Bella and when he opened his eyes, her face was nearly touching his.

She looked surprised for a second that he was gazing at her, and then against his better judgment, he placed his hands on either side of her face and held her still.

"Don't move," he hoarsely whispered.

She stilled immediately, obeying as if he were her tormenter and her life depended on it. Indeed it did. He moved by millimeters until closeness required that he tilt his face to avoid colliding with her nose.

She was barely breathing. He could hear the small puffs of air moving in and out of her mouth as those same bits of air whispered over his lips, engulfing him in her scent and hypnotizing him with more needs than he could count.

He touched his lips to hers, and the stillness evaporated. Bella moved deliberately closer in a nanosecond, hands sliding against his neck, legs moving to maximize the contact between their bodies.

He was utterly suffocated with warmth and smell and sensation, and he couldn't discern where he needed the most control.

He swallowed the venom and tried to gentle the overwhelming desire to squeeze her, to hold her so forcefully that she'd be crushed. He hardened himself into a gentle locomotive, a force that could not be stopped while he got infinitesimally closer and closer to her.

_His hair!_

_He's so strong!_

_He's so HARD!_

_Oh my God, he smells so good!_

_I never, _ever_ want this to stop._

_Breathe Bella! Breathe! I don't want to pass out during our first kiss…_

_Breathe!_

_BREATHE!_

_Is that?_

_Is he?_

_What is he doing anyway?_

_Where are we going? Mm, that's nice. _

He had swept her into the other room and laid her onto the chaise lounge before even a second had passed. He hovered over her, unable to stop kissing her, consuming her innocently, thoroughly. He pressed her to himself, raising her tenderly to his chest so that he didn't crush her beneath him.

The inner battle raged on. He'd been able to keep the venom at bay so far by swallowing almost constantly. The unfortunate consequence was that the more he kissed her and the more she bloomed beneath him, the more his own body reacted.

Her scent got stronger, her body more pliant, her lips even fuller and more succulent. As a result, his venom practically squirted, his body hardened, his eyes dilated and grew darker.

He was educated on sexual response. He'd observed it forever, but what came to mind was the passage he'd read in Desmond Morris' _The Naked Ape. _Bella's entire front was suffused with blood and tingling with neuro-receptors to maximize her sexual response and prepare her to receive pleasure from him. It seemed as if her body wanted to prove that the book was correct, because he could feel the tips of her breasts swell and harden against him, and he felt the blood rush to her lips, warming and plumping them deliciously against his exploring mouth.

It was getting nearly impossible to be detached enough to disable his own reactions and he was getting entirely too close to crossing the line. His desires were starting to converge. Thoughts of tasting her kisses and her blood were becoming interspersed, entwined so tightly that his body was aching to satisfy both needs at once. His pheromones started releasing as he lured Bella further in for the kill.

He still had a smithereen of detachment and knew intellectually that it wasn't possible to simply taste her and let her live. He nixed the idea but he could feel his shifting perspectives and hatched up various and random rationalizations to justify his urges.

Bella was interacting in a more calculated direction now, moving her hands over his skin without reserve and he liked it. He was feeling alive with sensation and he was reveling in the closeness of her warmth.

He simultaneously feared for her life.

*/*/*/*/*

_Mmm. That's all I have to say. _

_He just tastes so good – he smells so good – he just feels so, so good!_

_He is totally sweeping me off my feet and I can't say no to the broom!_

_I swear if he stops I will scream._

_Ooh – that's nice! His lips were made for my neck. He's making me shiver._

_Is he smelling me? _That_ even feels good. Mm – it makes me feel seriously sexy. Does he really want me so much that he's smelling me? I wonder how I smell. It's kind of animalistic, but _God_ that's good. _

_I want to return the favor. I don't mind being obvious if he is. Oh my does_ _he smell good._

_Ooh – so dizzy now. I think I'm going to faint. I don't want to but mm…_

*/*/*/*/*

She went completely limp in his arms. One moment she was touching him and reaching him wherever she could, and then he heard her inhale deeply through her nose. In the next moment she fell limp, hanging against the steely cage of his arms. Her deep inhalation of his scent had done it.

There would be no better time to take her. It would be optimal to pass on his venom while she was unconscious. No fear, no reaction, all he needed was to do it and get it over with. She would be disconnected from the world almost immediately and he could indulge in every desire raging through him.

But he fought with himself. He savored the bouquet of Bella's enticing aroma and stayed in place, hovering over her, holding her in his arms. He checked his level of restraint then, slowly running his tongue over her neck, still undecided. Since she'd passed out, the urge to take her sexually had actually increased.

His response when he licked her was catastrophically sexual, visceral and all-consuming, all at once. He hissed at his weakness, loathing himself as he drew his tongue away and pressed his teeth against the delicate tissue beneath him. He let his tongue touch her again while he was poised there, licking and denying himself his greatest pleasure. He wanted her so very badly and began to surrender to every truth in that wish. Self-deprivation only felt good to a certain point and it had now become torture.

He had nearly pierced the skin when Alice shrieked from behind him. His head snapped up and she looked at him accusingly, screaming into his brain. He immediately hushed her with a snarl, flinching lest Bella hear. Alice calmed then, knowing that Edward had done nothing but she pushed him away anyhow, pointing him toward the stairs and practically snatching Bella out of his arms.

Edward was grateful in a way. He wouldn't hate himself now, but the burning desire to have her was more stoked than ever before.

_Damn! Of course I fainted. Of course I had to go and ruin the moment._

_He probably thinks I'm pathetic. _

_I'll be lucky if he ever comes near me again._

_Damn!_

Edward heard her awaken, heard her excitedly telling Alice about the kitchen encounter, and Alice had cooed back approvingly.

Alice knew. The visions in her head were sure now. Edward was going to change Bella. He was going to taste her and claim her as his own, and Bella would let him. She would surrender – nay – encourage him to take her in every way possible.

Edward tried to convince himself that he was totally divided on the issue. His overwhelming desire to have her was at odds with his desire to preserve her in her perfection.

He was outright lying to himself. He couldn't _wait_ to have her and when he finally admitted it to himself, allowed for the possibilities, he could barely contain his enthusiasm.

But how to tell her? How to let her know the consequences of her infatuation with him? Should he give her the choice? Should he allow her to run?

Alice's visions of Bella as one of them didn't waver even as Edward decided that Bella should know his true nature. He was a little startled that the dark knowledge would change nothing for her. He admonished himself for feeling a leap of excitement and yearning at the idea that he would have her for his own.

He, however, could no longer be patient.

He had no idea why his long-standing self-denial had evaporated. He pondered, and the only thing he could determine for certain was that somehow, Bella herself had some sort of supernatural ability which utterly dissolved the familiar and expected course of his existence.

Somehow, she had managed to change the unchangeable.

_He's a what? Holy crow! Well _that_ explains an awful lot. _

_Not surprising though. Not at all. Hence his reluctance toward me. Hence absolutely everything about him and his family. Hence my attraction toward him. Of course I'm going to go for the unlikeliest and most unreachable of boyfriends._

_Gah. _

_I don't care though. I really don't. He'll be mine. I want nothing and no one else, and despite his warnings, his scare tactics, his reticence, I'm all in._

_All. In._

Things progressed both more quickly _and_ more slowly than Edward wanted. He stalled the entire unfolding scenario, continually second-guessing and doubting the appropriateness, the sinfulness of what he was about to do, and yet he yearned for Bella's closeness and oneness now more than ever. He yearned for her in ways that couldn't be accomplished in their present state.

Bella was unconditionally persistent in her desire to move forward.

Alice was unwavering in her confirmation that things would go as planned.

Edward, therefore, allowed himself to go with it.

The date was chosen, the location was determined, and Bella made her last good-byes without being at all obvious.

They stood together, her hands in his as they were married.

A short time later, they stood together again, her hands in his, at the foot of his bed in his room.

The time was now.

First he hugged her and held her close, taking in every detail of her humanity – the give of her body, the color of her eyes, the pink flush under her skin; he even watched the ripple of her pulse at her neck. He inhaled her, felt her, and experienced her as a human girl for the last time.

He kissed her, softly at first, gently and imploringly, until it was obvious that she sought something more enthusiastic. He obliged, deepening the kiss, opening his lips after cautioning her about his teeth. He tasted her, her scent becoming that much stronger and that much more inescapable.

His hands roamed over her curves, understanding that as their commitment took her life, grazing her breasts with his hands was no longer a grave sin. So he did just that – he touched everywhere, unashamed and unworried about smashing through the barriers of propriety.

She responded in kind, her hands fluttering over his neck, his back, his bottom. He felt a roaring sexual response all through him as she set off sparks with every tactile maneuver. He sat down heavily onto his bed, a form of surrender, and Bella sat on his lap facing him, her knees resting on either side of his thighs.

He broke contact with her mouth to kiss her in other places – her neck, her earlobe, her fingers (each and every one), and her chin. He kissed her eyelids and then rubbed his mouth over hers, pouting slightly to feel only her lips against his in an intimate caress.

She moved against him, unaware that he found it entirely too stimulating on many levels. He felt no need to correct her or still her movements though, because ultimately he knew the outcome. Alice's visions still hadn't changed.

Her scent was becoming overpowering now and he was swallowing and trying to keep his bloodlust in check as they increased their exploration.

He was holding back in so many ways, depriving himself of everything, even now.

Bella's hips repeatedly pressed into his and he could feel her body tightening. Her fingers dug into him, trying to grip into his flesh without success, and her lips pressed harder against his, her tongue trying to probe deeper. For her safety he tried to stay controlled.

He could feel things happening to him that were not unlike a feeding frenzy but altogether different at the same time. He wanted everything with Bella – wanted to lose that tightly held control, wanted to feel the rush of satisfaction, wanted to completely dominate and consume her, but he knew his satisfaction would be different than hers. His would be a rush of warmth in his mouth, whereas hers would be a rush of warmth to other parts.

He was a little shocked when she pulled off her top. She remained on his lap and he could see how she was visibly warm and flushed with pink excitement. He stared for the first time at someone he wanted to penetrate, and not just with his teeth.

His lips brushed over the warm and impossibly softer skin of her breasts and he couldn't help but burrow his face just a little against the tender yielding flesh. Her scent was stronger here, so close to her beating heart.

His sexual response took on another facet then and Bella shifted in response to the change. Her legs opened wider, her body wiggled closer and her movements became intent on rubbing against his now marble-like hardness.

Edward kissed her chest and without thinking, began to push the material of Bella's bra away, aside, so he could access what was surely a more compelling treasure than soft skin. It was everything he could do to avoid shredding the material in his effort to remove it.

He was not disappointed. Her pert nipples faced him, almost eye level, and his hands shifted restlessly over her back as he kissed and licked the hardest flesh he'd encountered yet.

*#*#*#*#*

_Crap! I just moaned out loud. He must have heard it. I thought I was being quiet._

_Oh God. He's smiling. He heard me._

_And now I'm blushing._

_Does he care? _

_I don't. I don't care. He's mine – he's all mine now and he needs to know honestly how I feel about everything – even this._

_And God this feels good. His mouth is incredible. His body feels so perfect and I just know I'm going to totally lose control if I keep moving like this._

_But that's what I want, isn't it? Don't I want to feel everything with him? I won't be human for long so why not make the most of it before I'm like him? Why not take advantage of the situation? I don't have to hide anything from him any more._

_Oh! He's so hard I can't believe it. I can't wait until we – until we – _

_Oh that's good. I'm just going to concentrate on that little feeling right there. _

_Mm._

_I love him so much!_

*#*#*#*#*

She was doing unworldly things to him. Bits and pieces of his composure were gone forever. Whole galaxies of what he thought he knew were being replaced with new sensations, revelations and desires. Rather than feeling satisfied with this increased contact, he was left feeling nothing but more want and more desire. He _needed_ more.

He breathed heavily, a long forgotten response to this sort of stimulation, and she did the same. He felt the delicious surrender as she lost herself in sensations, gripping his hair, pulling on it as she pressed against his hardness repeatedly. Her body was on fire with heat as the blood rushed through her and her scent heightened further.

He was going insane. She was the same Bella he knew. He could see her, he could feel her, he could smell her, but everything was different somehow. She was richer, more pervasively invading his senses than ever before, and he was overpowered by it. He knew it wouldn't be long so he tried desperately to keep his thinly veiled power under control.

He could tell she was lost. Could she tell he was getting close? He wanted to tell her. He hoped he could find his voice before he became submerged in his primary desire.

He was licking everywhere, tasting the surface, his mouth flowing with venom that slicked onto her skin in a thin sheen of moisture. She, mindless in her gyrations, threw back her head and moved against him deliberately. She had no clue that she'd just thrown every desire into overdrive by offering up her pulsing neck.

He felt her legs tighten, felt her press her center down harder onto him, and smelled her arousal all around him.

His own arousal was becoming a finer and finer point – he could almost see the culmination of this experience and he was hungry for it – in so many ways.

Bella's sounds became a conversation with his. Instead of little whimpers and murmurs that she tried to keep secret, she was outright moaning along with the moves of her jerking hips and he listened, memorizing the timbre of her voice, the vibration in her chest, the rush of air as she got closer and closer to climax. He spoke to her in an unfamiliar deeper voice, urging her to feel, to enjoy, pressing her forward and licking and kissing every tiny bit of her that he could.

"Tell me when Bella," he whispered, close to her ear before he licked and sucked on her neck with the last shreds of his restraint.

She seemed to push harder then, moving forward, rushing to meet him.

_I've never felt anything so intense. Edward's lips are heaven – his body is delicious and it just feels so good._

_I will never leave him. _

_I will never leave him._

_I will never leave him._

_Ahhhh. That's it. That's good. That's what I wanted._

"_Now Edward," I say, bursting into a supernova, giving him my body, giving him my blood, giving him myself._

He'd been waiting for those words – for that permission. He'd waited and denied himself for so long and now the dream was realized – she was his. His body reacted and understood when Bella reached the pinnacle of her satisfaction. Edward's mouth touched the pulse point in her neck and his lips made way. He could no longer rein himself in.

His mouth flooded with venom as he gave in to what he desperately desired. Finally – a taste of his Bella, his life. He could feel her flesh being destroyed under his lips. He felt himself crushing her, cracking and popping and grinding her to bits with his now uncontrolled lust.

Her body stilled as her voiced disappeared in a gasp instead of a scream. She couldn't stop herself from reacting to the pain, the immense blow of Edward's real strength, only eclipsed by the stinging bright burn that began spreading instantly through her blood with the advent of his venom. He came thunderously as the two points of his pleasure finally converged. He savored her every nuance: her taste, her smell, and her final moments in this delicate existential form.

He felt gratefully cherished as she gave herself to him. He worshipped every drop of her, every tiny give of her tender flesh under his power. He treasured each second of holding her life and vitality in his mouth and then within his body.

She was still, no longer able to move, the scent of her arousal still clinging to her body as he sealed the wound that made them one. He laid her on his bed, and stretched out beside her, speaking soothingly as the venom spread and healed the injuries he'd caused. He thought of the _Pieta_ then – of Mary holding the broken body of Jesus – and he gathered Bella's broken human shell in his arms.

He cradled her in adoration as her body changed, healed, transformed, and became as luminescent and indestructible as his own.

He knew with this final gift, that they were forever one.


End file.
